


Extra Ordinary

by iheartkpopXD, Lithium012



Category: ATEEZ (Band), NU'EST, SEVENTEEN (Band), TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band), VIXX
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Cross-Posted on AFF, Dumb humour, Eventual Romance, F/M, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, because im thirteen, some shady shit will happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 207,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartkpopXD/pseuds/iheartkpopXD, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithium012/pseuds/Lithium012
Summary: Many years ago, a strange phenomenon occurred, resulting in a handful of humans developing strange yet dangerous powers. To this day, no one knows why, but what they do know is something isn’t right. The once peaceful city of AL-1 is suddenly no longer safe: people are missing, people are dying and it’s up to the residents to figure out what exactly is going on.Alternative summary: some shady shit happened and the world is ending. So much for karaoke night this Friday.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Choi Beomgyu/Original Female Character(s), Choi Minki | Ren/Kim Jonghyun | JR, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan, Huening Kai/Original Female Character(s), Hwang Minhyun & Aaron Kwak | Aron, Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Lee Hongbin, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Seokmin | DK, Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Kudos: 16





	1. Just Something in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> *screaming into the void* Welcome to probably the BIGGEST fanfiction my co-author and I have ever written. It’s been about a year of writing and planning and rewriting to get to where we are now. Honestly, what a ride.  
> But all of this couldn’t have been done without the help of our amazing betas. Thank you so much Vertigo17, @cheolcolate_ and Kyra. Without you guys, I’m pretty sure this fic wouldn’t have been published.
> 
> This is cross-posted on AFF under iheartkpopXD's account!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from:[Darkside](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9dizs4YnMU&ab_channel=AlanWalker-Topic) by Alan Walker ft. Au/Ra & Tomine Harket

The early morning September breeze plays lovingly with JiWoo’s hair as she heads three and a half blocks down to the neighbourhood where one of her best friends, Seungkwan, lives in Sector A-2 of AL-1 city. Her feet crunch on some of the fallen leaves as a song plays through her head; a new song she heard Jihoon singing a few days earlier. _I want to pick and gather all the pretty words for you. They stick in my throat in front of you._ Her heart skips a beat when recalling the small memory as she nears detective Seungcheol’s home, and before she can even knock, Seungkwan yanks open the door with his toothbrush in his mouth, waving while giving her the most confusing hand gestures in all of history. He slams the door again and it takes a moment before JiWoo figures out what his charades meant. _You’re early, I’ll be out in five minutes, wait for me at the gate._ But ten minutes later (and after scrolling through social media and humming some more), the front door opens with Seungkwan attempting to throw his sneakers on. There’s someone missing from this picture, prompting JiWoo to speak up. 

“Vernon didn’t stay over last night?” she asks, looking up from her phone to see only Seungkwan sauntering down the brick walkway that decorates their shared home. He greets her at the front gate, giving her a friendly hug, JiWoo barely touches his back in a halfass attempt to return it. The older student hikes up his messenger bag higher on his shoulder, shaking his head to JiWoo’s question. 

“No,” Seungkwan says, with a slight frown. “He left after dinner last night. I tried to get him to stay the night, but he insisted that he needed to go back… ‘home’.” JiWoo tilts her head, frowning along with him. Vernon slowly begins to occupy her mind, much like how he would constantly occupy Seungkwan’s thoughts. There’s a gut feeling of worry settling at the bottom of the pairs’ stomach. 

“Well, let’s go find him before we’re late for school. Do you want to dri—?” he starts to say before she takes a step forward, motioning at Seungkwan to follow her. He lets out a dramatic huff, dreading the walk to school but he stands up a tad bit straighter before following his short friend. _It’s good exercise, remember that, it’s good exercise_. He repeats in his head, resisting the urge to take the lazy route and suggest they take his car instead. It’d be so much faster that way, though it’s difficult to bring it up without it sounding like he’s complaining. As far as JiWoo understands her friends love walking with her to school and she doesn’t see the problem, but deep down inside, it’s a pain, especially when they have to walk from sector to sector to get anywhere. He’s just lucky she came to pick him up for a change this morning, cutting the almost forty minute walk in half. 

As they take a few steps down the sidewalk, the front door opens with Seungkwan’s legal guardian, Seungcheol Choi poking his head out. 

“Seungkwan,” he says, kindness lining his voice. “You forgot your lunch again.” He sticks out a serenity blue metal lunch box, shaking it slightly. Seungkwan’s face turns red as JiWoo laughs at him while he dashes back, snatching the lunch box out of his guardian’s hands, muttering a disgruntled “Thank you.” Seungcheol then raises his hand to greet JiWoo with a wave, she politely waves back. 

“Be careful on your way to school!”

“Seungcheol,” Seungkwan says, rolling his eyes. “When are we not? We’re just walking to school?” That’s a question the older does not answer, ushering the student down the walkway and towards his friend, who’s still waiting. 

“It’s just a precaution.” 

“Don’t worry,” JiWoo says with a growing smile. “I’ll make sure Seungkwan doesn’t get into _too_ much trouble.” She earns a laugh from Seungcheol and Seungkwan scowls. He gently shoves his friend down the sidewalk before he gets embarrassed even more, only to turn back for a moment, giving Seungcheol a quick wave to which the older waves back. 

From the outside, one could say that the scene is merely that of a parent looking out for their child, but that would be inaccurate. Seungkwan isn’t Seungcheol’s child, and neither are they blood-related. Yet, a family doesn’t necessarily need the factor of blood to be considered family do they? That’s something Seungkwan had to learn growing up under the care of a barely legal Seungcheol and his family all those years ago. 

As the pair walk down the road, they head towards the most likely place Vernon might be hiding (Story Book library). But halfway through, they get the feeling he’s not at the library this time and look elsewhere. JiWoo uncharacteristically and animatedly talks while Seungkwan listens about a new song she heard. An eerie feeling of being watched hovers over him, remembering the vision Seungcheol told him the night before after Vernon left. In a voice of seriousness; one that scares the high school student, he said, “Just be careful.” Seungkwan doesn’t know what it means or why he’d say something like that but the ominous, foreboding tone that lingered after burns its way into the student’s mind. He takes a look behind himself before following JiWoo past the city’s only cemetery, all the way down in Sector A-4. To think that forty minute walk was cut in half, it’s just been doubled.

As they’re walking by, there’s a crow perched on the top of the gated entrance, peering down at them with his creepy, beady eyes. The kind that can look into one’s soul, the kind that gives Seungkwan a feeling of uneasiness. It’s as if the bird is observing them, watching and judging their every move. That is, until JiWoo’s unnaturally cheery voice snaps him out of the crow’s trance. 

“Good morning, Steve,” she says, still smiling. Seungkwan stares at her then back at the crow, he still hasn’t gotten used to how JiWoo could simply greet an animal like she’s greeting another person. Another thing he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to is how she’s able to make simple small talk with a bird. _What do birds even have to say?_ He listens as the two chatter aimlessly about something stupid which irritates the other. He thought they were here to find Vernon, not to waste precious time. He looks at his watch, frowning at the numbers displayed. There’s only half an hour left to get to class on time before all of them are spending another afternoon in detention for being tardy again. He looks over at his friend, scowling at the thought that she might be stalling, but for what? 

“Are we here to find Vernon or have small talk with a crow?” Seungkwan whispers while clinging to her arm. There’s something about AL-1’s cemetery that freaks him out more than the crow’s beady eyes watching him. At times like this, he’s glad JiWoo is here with him; being alone in such an unnerving place would’ve given him a panic attack. Moments like this are when Seungkwan wishes Vernon would finally take up on Seungcheol’s offer to live with them. But no, that stupid jerk likes hiding out in the creepiest places in the city. Last time Vernon went missing, they found him in a haunted house situated on the outskirts of town. 

“I’m getting to it!” she whispers back. “It’s rude to just interrupt a person and ask for a favor.”

“It’s a crow!”

“Shhh! His name is Steve!” She lightly elbows him in his side before looking back up to the crow, who’s tilting his head. JiWoo swallows audibly and sheepishly looks back at the bird. He definitely heard them. “Uhm, yes, I was wondering if you might have seen our friend Vernon walking around this morning?” 

The bird blinks before responding, “ **_I saw him wandering around the back left area of the cemetery not too long ago._ **”

“I see, thank you so much! Have a great day, Steve!” JiWoo waves happily at the bird, all while dragging Seungkwan along with her deeper into the cemetery. But not even a few steps in, she opens her mouth, eyeing Seungkwan’s outfit. “Honestly, that shirt is so ugly. And it doesn’t go with your pants,” she blurts out before covering her mouth, her eyes wide with regret and guilt.

“...HEY! RUDE!” Seungkwan’s voice echoes violently across the cemetery; causing everything with a working ear to scatter. The sound waves ripple through the dead quiet area, somehow cracking the stone fence and breaking one of the metal bars in it. JiWoo flinches, jumping back, covering her ears from the literal blow to her eardrum. 

“I’m sorry!” she shouts. “You know it’s my price!” She turns to him to see if he’s trying to say something back. She uncovers her ears, tilting her head closer to him. Even though his mouth is moving, there’s just no sound coming out. He looks a little silly flapping his lips silently. But a thought dawns on JiWoo: his voice is gone. “Ah, damn…” 

She lowers her head and attempts at giving her friend a hug. The knowledge that she’s the one who caused him to lose control of his power weighs heavily on her mind. Especially now that he’s paying his price thirty minutes before school starts. “I’m sorry, Boo, I really am!” she says, nuzzling his neck. She assumes that he’s rolling his eyes at the moment, but soon she feels him wrapping his arms around her. Relief fills her, knowing that Seungkwan isn’t mad at her. Perhaps a bit offended but not mad.

“Plus, _you’re_ not ugly; the shirt is,” she says, clarifying the horrific truth bomb she just told. “But those pants, yikes.” She lets him go the moment she feels him shaking. She looks up at him and smiles as Seungkwan laughs silently. He leans over, still laughing, and smacks her on the shoulder (albeit a bit more forcefully than he should have, but she accepts it with a painful whimper). Who is JiWoo Jeon to give fashion advice when all she wears is black? 

Laughing it off, she takes out her phone and her eyes widen at the time. Without any further distraction, she grabs a still giggling (at this point he’s a mime) Seungkwan and drags him through the cemetery, heading to where Steve the crow had mentioned earlier. 

They miss him the first time before finally finding Vernon fast asleep, resting against a nearly dead tree (save for a single branch near the trunk). Near the tree and Vernon is a pair of crumbling tombstones. JiWoo hopes the graves belong to a couple instead of a parent and child. The pair stands there staring at their sleeping friend, they’re unsure about waking him up. On the one hand, they need to wake him up because Vernon can’t miss any more class without facing suspension (since that stupid jerk only goes to school a maximum of three times a week). But on the other hand, this is probably the first time he’s gotten any sleep in three weeks; waking him up would be cruel. 

After a few minutes of thought, they come to an agreement to wake him up, because it’s inevitable. So they step forward and kneel down in front of their sleeping friend, who curls towards the sun’s rays. Seungkwan leans over and gently pokes him in the face, while JiWoo asks him to wake up, reaching for a stick. But she’s whacked again by Seungkwan who’s scolding her with his silent words. 

At first, Vernon doesn’t stir, but the poking soon becomes too much for him to ignore and JiWoo’s voice gets louder. After a moment, Vernon’s face begins to scrunch up and he groans a bit. He pulls the hood of his recently cleaned hoodie and turns away from his two friends. 

“How did you manage to sleep through Boo’s yelling?” she snickers before yelping in pain. She whips around, scowling at Seungkwan after he slaps her on the back of the head. “Quit hitting me!”

“Five more minutes,” Vernon mumbles, turning towards the sun. By some kind of miracle, the pair manages to wake him after those five minutes are up (probably from JiWoo’s one-sided bickering with Seungkwan), he regrets not asking for more than that. As Vernon sits up he stretches his sore body, blinking and looking around seeming lost for a moment before remembering where he is. 

“Good morning~!” JiWoo sings, much to the distress of a very sleep deprived Vernon. Seungkwan tries to do the same, but nothing comes out. With that knowledge, he sticks his lower lip out, remembering how his price works. It’s annoying to have it varying each time he uses his ability. He hopes (and prays) that his voice comes back before classes start. Imagine how awkward it would be if he’s called upon in class.

“How’d you find me?” Vernon asks, brushing dead grass off his jeans and shaking off any other debris that may have clinged onto him. “I thought you’d look somewhere else first.” 

“A little birdie told us,” she grins and elbows Seungkwan, laughing at her own joke. The unamused expression causes her to pout. “It was a crow. I asked Steve the crow.” And that answer seems to satisfy Vernon’s curiosity as a backpack floats through the air, slipping onto the younger’s shoulders. He gives the air a nod of thanks and starts walking out of the cemetery; ignoring his friends stumbling over their own two feet at the mere sight. He turns around and gives the air a wave; all while his friends waste no time following the other through a maze of tombstones. 

“By the way, did you guys study for today’s Math test?” JiWoo asks, elbowing Vernon as the trio head through the ever creepy cemetery. She’s starting small talk again, but at least this time it’s with a human “I heard it’s gonna be really tough.” 

“Really?” Vernon murmurs, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “I forgot we had a test.”

“Ah.” JiWoo simply shakes her head and pats him on the back a few times roughly, as an attempt to help wake him up. “I suppose you’re screwed. You and I both.”

“Oh?” He lets out a pleasant hum, looking over at the empty air with a lazy grin on his face. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.” 

“Huh...? Who are you talking to?” 

“Ted said he’ll help me on the test,” Vernon says, giving JiWoo and Seungkwan a sly smile. 

“Ted?” Seungkwan asks, his voice slightly raspy from the lack of use. “Who the hell is Ted?”

“You know, m’friend Ted… from the dead. He’s dead and died like… years ago.” JiWoo gives him a nervous laugh (thinking who the fuck is going to help her with her test, huh?), wondering how Vernon managed to manifest the creepiest power ever. Sure, you can argue that talking to animals is kind of strange, but anyone with these powers admits that talking to the dead might have to be the strangest. But who gives her, or anyone for that matter, the right to judge on what’s normal and what isn’t? As they exit the cemetery (with Seungkwan finally filling up the dead space between the three of them), JiWoo hears Steve the crow from earlier cawing. 

“ **_Be careful_ **.” JiWoo briefly glances over her shoulder, looking back to Steve perched at the top of the entrance, before turning around completely. She wants to ask why he said that to her because she’s never heard any of the animals tell her something like it before in the past years she’s had this power. And it’s hard to ignore it when Seungcheol had also told them the exact same words earlier. It’s as if a sense of dread collectively overcame the town, affecting the people and the animals there. JiWoo doesn’t like it, her thoughts dragging themselves inwards, heading towards a swirling dark vortex. 

“C’mon! You’re going to make us late!” Seungkwan’s voice snaps her out of it and this time she’s the one being dragged away from the cemetery entrance by her arm.

* * *

Jeonghan Yoon is not, and will never be a morning person; he despises them with a fiery passion that rivals the intense passion soccer fans have for their dramatic ass sport. Well, maybe not to that extent (but who is Jeonghan kidding here), either way, waking up seems like a living nightmare. He groans as he rolls out of bed, barely awake when he smells something burning. His mind quickly comes up with a guess that his nephew has burned something - maybe toaster waffles again - thus setting off the smoke alarm. The man combs his hand through his messy blond locks while stumbling across his penthouse bedroom. He somehow makes it out to the hallway to see Chan standing on a chair, fanning the smoke alarm. 

“I burned waffles again,” Chan says, waving a metal tray frantically in a vain effort to silence the alarm. 

“Did you put the toaster on too high?” Jeonghan asks, trudging over to the window and throwing it open. The cold early morning wind blasts through the window, chilling the blond to the bone. Shivering, he shuffles towards his bedroom and grabs (more like wrestles) his bathrobe away from Miss Ava who happens to be snoozing on it. His cat gives him a bitter look and Jeonghan shoots one back. 

“Diva,” he mutters before shuffling into his bathroom. From inside, he can hear Chan clanging something in the kitchen; and whatever he’s doing to Jeonghan’s barely touched kitchen doesn’t sound good. He hurries through his morning routine (almost skipping his daily moisturizer but decides against it; a dry face would drive him insane) and rushes out to the kitchen. The young boy stands over the stove, glaring at the pan just as Jeonghan smells something different burning, again causing the smoke alarm to go off for a second time that day. 

“Chan,” Jeonghan says, scraping the burnt eggs into the trash. “I told you before, you don’t need to cook me breakfast.” As much as the older adores his little nephew trying so hard, he’s only a child. Breakfast is Jeonghan’s responsibility, not Chan’s. “Let’s just grab something to eat on the way to school.” Okay maybe it’s not Jeonghan’s responsibility either. 

The boy doesn’t say anything and simply nods in reply, his expression blank but with a hint of irritation. When Jeonghan’s done cleaning up after Chan’s failed attempt at cooking he grabs Miss Ava, who happens to be snoozing again, gently putting her into the custom-designed pastel pink cat carrier he got for her and locks her in. Chan looks down at the feline who peers up at the small boy with a similar irritated gaze. Their feelings for the flamboyant blond man are mutual. 

“Alright, off we go now, my precious little babies!” Jeonghan says intentionally in that horribly annoying tone while picking up the cat carrier and putting his free arm around Chan’s shoulders, ignoring the way his nephew slightly shies away from his touch. Jeonghan will never admit how much that hurts; making him wonder if he’s being too much. But he brushes those thoughts aside, remembering that if he didn’t make sure Chan was okay, his brother-in-law would come back and beat the living shit out of him. As they head to the door Jeonghan asks Chan if he’s forgotten anything. 

“No… But why you ask me!?” Chan protests, sticking out his lower lip. “I pro-pro-promise I don’t forget anything. Why you always ask me!?” 

“Because I still don’t understand how you could’ve forgotten a backpack. Not a lunchbox but a _backpack_.” 

Chan simply shrugs. “I dunno. Not import-en-ent? Miss Ava is!” Regardless, he hoists his backpack on and saunters out the front door. Jeonghan sighs, rubbing his temples before looking down at Miss Ava. She peers up with a slightly less irritated look on her face before letting out a small meow. 

“I don’t think anyone could forget their backpack,” Jeonghan says. (He later eats his words when he forgets his briefcase in the living room, much to Chan’s utter delight). 

With Miss Ava buckled up in the back seat along with Chan in his car seat, the trio hit the road in Jeonghan’s ridiculously gaudy, hot pink Mercedes Benz. The only sound in the car is a few songs from the radio, but the silence within isn’t awkward, it’s rather peaceful, so peaceful that if Jeonghan wasn’t driving he probably would’ve fallen asleep. But, he enjoys having his liver intact, so he keeps an eye on the road (and only speeds just a little when he realizes they only have twenty-five minutes left before Chan has to be in class). Mornings are often hectic for Jeonghan and Chan; with one of them (Jeonghan) constantly sleeping past his alarm and the other (Chan) constantly burning his breakfast, it’s a miracle Chan manages to get to class on time. 

Jeonghan pulls up to the elementary school located in Sector A-3 (a good distance from where they live in Sector A-1 but the drive over is nice, gives the uncle and nephew more time with each other in the mornings) with one minute and fifty-four seconds left to spare. He gets out of his car and walks around, opening the backseat door and ducks in to find Chan has already unbuckled himself. He pouts as Chan crawls out of the seat on his own, muttering he’s not a baby anymore and Jeonghan should quit acting like he’s one. But do those words ever stick with the blond man? No. Before Chan can hurry off, Jeonghan whips the boy around by his arm and quickly cleans the pancake syrup off Chan’s cheek. “Maybe we shouldn’t order you pancakes anymore,” Jeonghan says, licking his thumb and wiping it over the syrup. 

“You don’t want me to growing bigger?” Chan asks, pushing his uncle’s thumb away, cringing at the thought of the older wiping his spit across his face. “I need pancakes to growing bigger.” 

“No, you need vegetables to _grow_ bigger.” Chan rolls his eyes and turns to leave. Jeonghan dramatically lets go of his nephew’s arm, the boy’s hand sliding through his uncle’s, he stands there like a clingy parent dropping off their kid on their first day of school. The same mantra comes out of Jeonghan’s mouth. “Have a wonderful day, Channie~! Learn something new, okay?” Chan simply nods in response when he hears his uncle say, “Wait before you go, I have something important to tell you.” Chan looks over at him, his expression never changing. “I love you!” The boy stares at him for a moment, a bright smile slowly spreading across his little face. 

“I love you too, Uncle Hannie!” He waves vigorously before running off. 

Jeonghan stands there, on the verge of tears, placing the hand he used to wave over his swelling heart. Once Chan is inside, Jeonghan returns to his car, slumping back down and letting out a deep sigh before allowing his forehead to fall against the steering wheel in defeat. “He’s growing up too fast…” The emotional part of him wishes his brother-in-law would come back soon, but the rational part of himself reminds him that his brother-in-law isn’t coming back. If he was, he wouldn’t have dumped the responsibility of caring for two-year-old Chan on a twenty-two year old (barely graduated) Jeonghan four years ago, and just expected the young man to magically know how to raise a growing kid. 

Miss Ava lets out a meow, catching his attention and causing him to shift in his seat; he turns around and faces his disgruntled cat. 

“You love me too, right?” 

She lets out a softer mewl this time, almost as if the white furball isn’t one hundred percent confident in answering that question. She doesn’t let out another sound when she hears Jeonghan shout, “I knew it!” with a bright smile on his face. It’s like she lets out an exasperated sigh, lying down in her carrier and curls up. Oh well, at least her owner is happy, which is the only thing she could really ask for.

Jeonghan lets out a happy hum, feeling slightly more awake than he did half an hour ago, but he knows it won’t last long. Regardless of that, he still needs coffee. With that in mind, he starts up the car and heads to his office building downtown located in Sector A-6 (which is thankfully next to Sector A-1, AL-1’s city’s map is confusing, they know).

* * *

Junhui hates getting coffee (a no foam, double shot of espresso Americano) for his boss; mainly due to the highly complex order that bastard makes him get and the social awkwardness he feels whenever he has to tell the barista that. At least the man making the coffee has always been patient with it, preparing it exactly how Jeonghan wants it. But Junhui doesn’t understand why today there’s a random phone number written on the side of the cup with the saying ‘dial this to meet your soulmate.’ What kind of game is the barista playing by writing some dumb shit like that? The younger man sighs, rubbing his tired eyes as he takes the overly crowded elevator up to the top floor. 

He supposes the benefits of working for the world’s leading fashion company is a good thing but, it seems like the consequences outweigh the benefits. When he reaches the top floor, people shove right by him, eager to start the day. Junhui is the last to leave the elevator, being careful not to spill the burning hot coffee onto himself and his daily planner. He weaves through the crowd of designers, models, and cameramen, before finding himself standing in front of Jeonghan’s gaudy dark brown mahogany door. It would’ve looked so professional if it wasn't for the fact that the blasted door has two hundred and ninety-seven (yes Junhui counted it one day while waiting for Jeonghan) Hello Kitty stickers on it. The Chinese man takes a few breathes in, regaining his professional manner before knocking on the door. 

What seems to be a poor impression of the titular _Godfather_ comes through, sending nothing but annoyance down the assistant’s spine. Junhui opens the door, seeing the back of Jeonghan’s massive leather office chair. Once the Chinese assistant closes the door, Jeonghan turns around with his fluffy white Persian cat lounging in his arms. From where Junhui stands, he could hear the cat purr as Jeonghan gently strokes her. A condescending smirk rests on the older’s face as Junhui cautiously walks over, still holding the coffee he fetched for him all the way in the heart of the city of AL-1’s Sector Zero (Seriously, what is up with all these sectors?). 

“Did you get something for Miss Ava as well?” Jeonghan asks. 

“Since when do you bring Miss Ava to work? And what was I supposed to even bring for her?” Junhui replies, blinking confusingly before stepping back. The cat in Jeonghan’s arms lets out a dissatisfied grunt, glaring at the assistant, all while sending shivers down Junhui’s spine. He firmly believes that there’s nothing he could do to even please the animal, so why even bother? Jeonghan’s eyes widen, an exaggerated look of shock spreads across his face. 

“How could you Junhui!? Miss Ava works hard in this industry as well and it would be very cruel _not_ to give her something for her efforts. Have you no heart? No soul!? Oh, the anarchy!” Junhui places his head into the palm of his hand as he listens to his boss continuing his rant about ‘anarchy’ and ‘the world coming to an end’ all because the other had forgotten something for his cat. What has Junhui’s life become? 

“I promise I’ll bring her something next time,” Junhui deadpans, in a vain effort to silence his ever-annoying boss. His eyes roll up as he talks, hoping the other doesn’t notice. Thankfully, that answer seems to satisfy Jeonghan, who immediately shuts up and smiles at his disgruntled assistant. 

“Good.” Jeonghan reaches out, grabbing the coffee cup and takes a long sip of the glorious caffeine. He places the cup (and his cat) down, before leaning forward. “What’s on today’s agenda?” Finally, something Junhui can work with before he yanks out all of his hair from the absurdity of Jeonghan Yoon. The younger male won’t lie, the blond is amazing at what he does, but sometimes (or rather all the time) Jeonghan is just known to be, well, dramatic. The first time Junhui started at the company, he remembers being horribly overwhelmed by the drama that was happening at the time. 

In fact, working at Good To Me fashion company never has a dull day; there’s always something exciting happening. Whether it’s a model having a meltdown (something that happens very often) or a designer having a mental breakdown (which shockingly happens more often than one might expect); there’s never a dull moment. Today proves to be a bigger headache for Jeonghan and Junhui than either one had expected. Not only did one of the photographers walk out an hour before the shoot, but a designer declares themselves incompetent and nearly jumps out the nearest window to their deaths thirty-five floors down. There’s a strain on Jeonghan’s ability, feeling his hair grow as he sits the said man down and quietly talks to him. Though it’s not advised to use one’s powers on a normie, if Jeonghan had learned anything from his father is that you have to be willing to give up anything for the betterment of the company. 

When Jeonghan arrives back into the safety of his office, he plops down in his massive armchair and lets out a noise that sounds like a mixture of a whine and a scream, he’s suddenly thankful for the soundproof walls. He looks up and stares at his cup of coffee, whining to it about how problematic all of the workers are and how he had to use his power. He lifts up one of the strands of hair, showing the cup as if it could see and understand. “Look!” he cries, shoving that strand of hair into the poor cup’s face (if it had one) “It’s so long again! What am I going to do!? It’s already hard enough to buy shampoo to keep my hair silky smooth!” 

He lowers his head again, feeling defeated by the complete lack of answers. He lifts his head again, planning to take a sip when he finally notices something written on the side of the cup. He pulls the cardboard sleeve off, seeing someone’s phone number against the rose-pink coloured cup. Curious, he picks up his cellphone and carefully dials the numbers in. The line rings and a part of Jeonghan wonders if the number is a prank until someone on the other end picks up. 

“ _Hello?_ ” A soft-spoken voice asks on the other side, as if the person is hesitant to answer. “ _Joshua speaking_.” 

“Why would you write your phone number on a coffee cup?” Jeonghan asks, staring at the message written in bubbly letters. _Dial if you want to meet your soulmate_ . “This is how you get strange people calling your number, _Joshua_.” 

There’s a sharp intake coming from the other side, as if the teenager (Joshua) hadn’t been expecting someone to answer. If Jeonghan had any sense of dignity he wouldn’t have called, but alas, he doesn’t. Or rather, he likes to say that he has an overwhelming sense of curiosity. The boy on the other end begins stuttering, flustered probably by someone calling the number. Jeonghan almost chuckles into the phone, shaking his head. 

“You should be careful,” Jeonghan says, once more. “You’re… what? Sixteen, seventeen? You shouldn’t be giving out your number like that, or your name.” Nor should he be adding such a suggestive message at the bottom, but Jeonghan keeps that to himself. A part of him secretly wishes that it was someone around his age on the other side, but the reality of that seems fleeting by the second. He sighs, reminiscing on how lonely he is. Twenty-six years of his life and not once did he have a steady relationship - sure he and his friend of twenty years, Seungcheol maybe fooled around a bit when they were young but that was years ago. Jeonghan looks back at the multiple failed relationships he had, wondering what went wrong. Maybe it is time for him to look for someone; but what are the consequences of that? Will he have to hide the fact that he’s a contractor to this person for the rest of his life?

“ _... I’m not in high school or seventeen. I’m actually twenty-four_ !” Joshua huffs. “ _How dare you assume I’m younger than I actually am_!?” 

Jeonghan blinks at the sudden outburst before breaking out in laughter. “Oh, I’m sorry for assuming. So…” He can still hear Joshua’s annoyed breathing over the device, much to the older’s delight. “Tell me, Joshua, are you my soulmate?”

* * *

Joshua can feel his body sink down to the floor of the Carat Cafe, hand over his mouth and his phone pressed up against his ear. He gives himself a good mental scolding as he hears the man on the other end snicker over his stupid bet with Seokmin and Soonyoung. But the moment the man asks Joshua if he’s this stranger’s soulmate, everything (air, his soul and dignity) seems to explode out of him, leaving the barista as an empty shell of a person on the floor of a half-full cafe. He gapes for a moment, unable to find an answer to that. His mind blanks as the person on the other end continues to snicker, asking him again if he’s this man’s soulmate. How does Joshua tell him that it’s a punishment for a dare? How could he hurt someone else’s feelings like that? It would be like kicking a random puppy you see on the side of the road without mercy. 

Yet, he still curses at himself for doing such a thing. Why couldn’t he have dyed his hair electric blue like Soonyoung first suggested? Why’d he agree to Seokmin’s idea about this? Sighing, Joshua somehow regains his words, sitting up against the baked goods. 

“I suppose so,” he says. “That number was bound to go to someone.” 

“ _Why didn’t you put down a fake number?_ ” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” He hears the man chuckle. 

“ _I suppose_.” Joshua opens his mouth to say something more but someone clearing their throat at the counter catches his attention. He quickly whispers “I’ll talk to you later” into the phone before hanging up. He peeks over the counter before popping up in front of Wonwoo, a regular customer from the local university. Like normal, Wonwoo’s face is stuck in a book, his sharp eyes meticulously scanning the words as his flat mouth opens ever so slightly, silently mouthing the words. 

“What can I get you?” Joshua asks, his perky customer service voice coming through despite knowing Wonwoo for four months already. 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he says, never looking up from his textbook. “Continue on with your little love conversation.” A little smirk tugs at the student’s lips when Joshua begins to whine. Wonwoo ignores it, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger making his eyeglasses glint in the lighting. For a moment, the tall student looks like a character straight out of an anime Joshua is watching on his days off. “But I’ll have my usual, and make Jihoon’s usual too.” The barista nods, punching the numbers in before pulling out his black marker out of his smock; carefully writing each drink order on the rose-pink cups. 

“Is it going to be a long day today?” Joshua asks while preparing the two students’ usual: a long macchiato for Wonwoo and a caramel chocolate mocha for Jihoon. Wonwoo lets out a stressed “Mhm” , his eyes never leaving his book. 

“I have a midterm coming up in six weeks,” Wonwoo says, looking up at the ceiling for a brief moment. “And an assignment due three weeks from now. And something else that I can’t remember at the moment.” Joshua continues to listen to the student’s woes and worries, all while skillfully piping whipped cream onto the mocha; every so often offering some sort of comfort to the younger. But nothing beats the comfort Wonwoo feels when he takes a sip of his coffee, relishing in the bitterness of it all. Something Joshua doesn’t think he could handle; he never was nor will ever be a bitter coffee drinker, strongly disliking the horrid taste that comes with burning one’s tongue on freshly brewed bean juice. 

“Well good luck in your studies,” Joshua says, wiping the steam wand with his rag. “Tell me how it goes when you come by next time.” 

Wonwoo closes his book and places it under his arm before grabbing the two coffees and raising one of the cups in the air, giving Joshua a smile. The kind that reaches his eyes, turning them into glittering crescent moons and the kind where his teeth shine and genuine happiness beams through. “Will do. When I come back, you better tell me how your love life is going.” He ignores Joshua’s sputtering and walks out, heading down the cobblestone path towards the university. Joshua, still feeling indignant from the dare, grabs his washrag and begins wiping down the countertop, a small pout forming on his lips. 

He tells himself that this isn’t the beginning of a love life, nor will it ever be one. Even if Joshua secretly hopes it’ll become something more than a one time call. Even if he is thankful that his number landed in the hands of someone much more interesting than the people he’s dated before. Even if he wants to know more about the mysterious man on the other line. Despite all the longing he feels, he knows it won’t go anywhere. People like him aren’t destined to find love, nor are they destined to deserve such luxuries.

But there’s never any harm in dreaming, as long as they stay as dreams. 

* * *

Wonwoo walks into class fifteen minutes before it’s supposed to start thanks to starting his day earlier than needed. His sharp eyes scan the partially full lecture hall, looking for a tuff of cotton candy pink hair and a pair of oversized headphones. He sees one of his roommates, Jihoon, in the middle back, his head dipped down into his desk. From afar it looks like Jihoon’s asleep, which wouldn’t surprise the younger given how many all-nighters the music student continues to pull. Without a second thought, Wonwoo heads up to where his roommate is (sitting? Sleeping? Perpetually unconscious to the point of no return?) and plops down in the empty seat next to him. 

“Did you bring me the good shit?” Jihoon asks, without lifting his head off the table. “If you didn’t then you can get the fuck away from me before I bite your pretty head off.” 

“Here,” Wonwoo says, plunking the coffee cup (albeit a bit too harshly) down next to his grumpy and a rather aggressive roommate. “Next time ask me nicely. You do know my car is in the shop, right? I had to walk from Sector to Sector just to get it. No complaining.” Jihoon lifts his head, scowling at Wonwoo before reaching over and grabbing the coffee cup. He holds up a hand as he greedily takes a sip, relishing in the caffeine high before slumping back in his chair. Wonwoo eyes the shorter, rolling them before drinking his own coffee. Living with Jihoon is like living with a permanently anxious stray panther; you never know what he’s feeling (unless his cheeks are red, then it either could be him getting upset over something stupid or him being frustrated over something stupid, [spoiler: it’s always something stupid]). 

“Wonwoo~!” A voice calls from the bottom of the lecture hall. “Where are you sitting?! Raise your hand to let me know!” Said person sighs and lifts up his hand high enough to not draw attention (but let’s be real here, the moment Soonyoung opens his mouth, all the attention is on them) but enough for his second roommate to see. Soonyoung gleams, waving frantically back before bouncing up the lecture hall stairs. He seats himself right next to Jihoon, who allows the dancer to do so. If Wonwoo were to do it, Jihoon would bite the taller’s head off and use his limbs to make a table. 

“Why didn’t you get me one?” Soonyoung asks, sticking out his lower lip into a pout. “I love that place. So, so much.” 

Wonwoo scoffs, sipping his coffee once more. “You on _coffee_? Please, I can barely handle you normally. Imagine you on coffee.” He shudders at the very thought. 

“I’ve seen it,” Jihoon says, gulping down his mocha like his life depends on it. “It’s not pretty. Basically, imagine a dog on LSD and cocaine.” He gives Soonyoung a comforting pat on the head. “Sorry, buddy, but no coffee for you… ever, unless we’re feeling adventurous.” Wonwoo hums in agreement, settling back in the hard plastic chairs as more students (and the professor) pile in. He listens to Soonyoung rambling about something that happened to him on his way to class (knowing him, it’s probably something involving Hoshi Yoshi the pet hamster and the sewer) before the professor clears his throat, cutting Soonyoung’s story right at the good part. 

“As I was saying, I woke up and there was mayonnaise everywhere; Hoshi Yoshi somehow got out of his cage and into the pile of beets we had on the table, and somehow I lost my sock,” Soonyoung says the moment they exit the lecture hall an hour and forty-five minutes later. “I guess you could say it’s a normal Tuesday morning for me.” 

“In what universe is that— You know what, don’t answer that. I gotta get some stuff done,” Wonwoo says, throwing out his paper cup. “I’ll see you all at home.” 

Soonyoung scoffs, “Like what? There’s no assignments due for like another three weeks.” 

“You can never get things done too early,” Wonwoo replies, pushing up his glasses (making them glint once again like a fucking anime character). “Anyways, I’m going to take my leave. Don’t bother me.” The pair wave, continuing down the hallway towards the performing arts department while Wonwoo makes a detour towards the biology department which involves heading outside in the brisk September air. He walks out with the stream of people, only to gracefully (not really) trip over a crack in the pavement and lands hard on his side. This rather dramatic fall causes his glasses to fall off his face from the sheer impact of the cold hard ground, luckily he fell down in a shaded area and not on the sizzling sidewalk that could literally cook his breakfast and burn it. AL-1’s weather has always been fickle, for example; _it fucking snowed last night in the middle of summer, what the hell is this shit?_ He supposes that his glasses didn’t need that kind of stress in their life and noped the heck off his face. So much for being a real life anime character anymore.

Wonwoo quietly curses as he carefully pushes himself up off the ground onto his knees and feels around for his glasses. Everything around him looks and feels the same; rocky and gravelly under his fingers, as for visuals, all he’s seeing is the same grey blobs until it’s one big blur. He tries to squint, to no avail, it’s difficult to make out where his thin metal-rimmed glasses are on the pavement below. Why didn’t he wear his other pair? At least the black frame would stand out against the grey. He hopes (really hopes) that his glasses had fallen close to him, but it doesn’t seem likely given his ability to find them. “Damn it, seriously now!?” 

“ ** _To the left,_** ” a little voice says nearby, startling Wonwoo for a moment. He looks up, looking for a human shape within the vicinity. But there’s nothing but blobs of green, brown and grey; anyone who was here would’ve left already. So, who said that? “ ** _A little to the left,_** ” the voice repeats. 

“O-Okay. Th-thank you...” He goes back to searching, crawling on all fours towards his left. He squints once again, realizing a blob of greenway off in the corner (some hedges that are in dire need of pruning but he wouldn’t say that, that’d be rude) is probably the thing talking to him. Regardless of the fact he’s getting instructions through a fucking bush, he appreciates the help. 

“ **_You’re getting colder…_ **” the bushes taunt, leading him towards the sidewalk, the place where he just was. But, there’s something nagging him at the back of his mind, something along the lines of how many germs are breeding on the gum covered sidewalk. He’s not particularly interested in getting gum spread diseases today but for the sake of his school life, he must. Plus, there’s the matter of his pride; no way in hell is he going to look for his glasses with his hands barely touching the ground, just because he’s scared of gum diseases. 

“ ** _You’re getting warmer,_** ” another voice, kinder this time, informs him 

“Can you _please_ just tell me how far away I am?” Wonwoo grumbles, feeling like he’s being pranked by those bloody bushes. They’re probably leading him further away from his glasses in order to get a laugh. What a miserable life they must live. 

“ **_Take a step back,_ ** ” Another bush suggests, he pauses, thinking about it for a second before taking a hesitant step back. “ **_Take another._ **” His patience runs out completely with these fucking bushes; he feels like an idiot, crawling on all fours trying to look for his glasses. 

“I don’t trust you anymore! Fuck off!” he shouts. Just as he’s about to get up, he hears a set of footsteps and freezes in his spot. Then the sound that no one with glasses ever wants to hear, behind him, he hears the sound of his glasses breaking. As well as the sound of someone gasping as a heavyweight falls upon Wonwoo, a horror if you will. 

“ **_Someone else stepped on his glasses before he could, this is even better! Hahaha!_ **” The bushes over by the wall all hoot with maniacal laughter as Wonwoo groans. Just to make matters worse, said person trips over Wonwoo still on the ground. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” a husky, orotund voice exclaims while getting up and quickly helping Wonwoo stand. “You’re not hurt are you?” There’s a small spark between them but neither pay much attention to it, they’re more focused on the situation at hand with Wonwoo and his broken glasses.

“Uh… No, I’m fine.” Wonwoo finds the unwavering of his voice rather unusual, given his past reputation of being difficult to talk to. Perhaps people didn’t understand that Wonwoo (despite his rather piercing gaze) is unnaturally shy, or rather uncomfortable when it comes to new people. But there’s something about the large, blurry blob in front of him that makes him feel rather comfortable, content to be within the person’s presence. It’s as if the blob shares the same aura as Soonyoung. “Uhm… do you see my glasses anywhere on the ground?” It takes WonWoo a while to realize that he’s still holding onto the guy’s hand. He quickly lets go and returns to his original goal; getting his damn glasses so he can deal with the consequences. 

“Ah...” The guy in front of him sounds rather upset when kneeling down to pick up the aforementioned glasses. “I think I accidentally stepped on them, I am so sorry!” 

“That’s okay. It was an accident,” Wonwoo says, trying to keep his voice leveled. He could feel his own annoyance lingering in the back of his throat like bitter grapes. But like his father and his teachers have told him many times before, do not let your anger overwhelm you. 

“But still!” the guy says. “At least, let me repay you.” 

“And how are you planning to do that?” Silence, and for a moment Wonwoo wonders if he somehow scared the other away. “Uh… hello?” Suddenly, he feels the temperature around him rise, as if summer has shown her beautiful face, reminding them she’s still in town. The sudden warmth causes the unexpected September snowfall on the arts building rooftop to melt, dripping icy water down on those mischievous bushes from earlier. He hears them shriek, complaining about the sudden change in weather, causing Wonwoo to snicker. _That’s what you get._

Out of nowhere, he feels a massive gust of wind blowing through, nearly knocking him over. As Wonwoo stumbles, he feels a strong hand grab his bicep; balancing him. 

“What the hell was that?” Wonwoo blurts out, his voice shaking at the sudden phenomenon. He wonders if the other man can hear how loud his heart is beating. Wonwoo is convinced that he’s suffering a heart attack. But, the stronghold on his arm remains, which scares the blind student, causing him to reach out and tap on the other male on the elbow. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Huh? Ye-Yeah! I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” the other says a bit too loudly, making Wonwoo flinch a bit at the nervousness within the other’s voice. “Here’s your glasses by the way.” He feels the other male’s (oddly warm hand, something Wonwoo likes) wrap around his icy cold tight fist, gently uncurling it and placing the crushed glasses into his palm. 

“Hey,” the other male says. “Can I have your phone?” 

“No,” Wonwoo blurts out, frowning. “Why would I give you my phone?”

“Ah, no, I meant can I see your phone?” he says in a sheepish tone. Wonwoo hesitates before taking out his phone and placing it in the other’s hand. He swallows nervously, as he carefully places his destroyed glasses into his front coat pocket. 

“Here,” the other male says, handing Wonwoo’s phone back. “Give me a call when you’re going to get them fixed!”

“Wait,” Wonwoo shouts, as he hears the other man turn to leave. He hears the other stop, yelping as he stumbles over something, skidding to a stop. “What’s your name?” 

“Uh… Mingyu. Mingyu Kim? The baker from Aju Nice?” 

“Wait, Mingyu? What the hell are you doing here?” The baker hesitates on answering. “You know what? Nevermind, I need to get a research paper done. I’m fucking blind but see you around.” There’s a sharp intake of breath before he hears a hesitant voice say, “Okay. I’ll see you then.” With that, the other boy runs off, leaving Wonwoo at the mercy of the school and his own blindness. As he takes a step, he sees the blobs of green in his view, to which he proceeds to flip them off. 

“I hope they forget to prune you in the spring.” He lets out a laugh when he hears the bushes gasp in offense. _Serves them right_. 

* * *

Classes seem to be dragging unusually slow today; as if time itself is slowing down and by the time fourth period comes around, JiWoo is ready to collapse into bed. She attempts to listen in on the ‘oh so important’ information for her upcoming test but nothing is sticking inside her mind. It’s like she’s become a zombie; completely brain dead and mindless. Her thoughts continue to fill with anything but school-related thoughts, she has never liked school for as long as she could remember. There are times when she wishes her brother would homeschool her. There’s just too much superficial bullshit that happens among the students (and unfortunately, by association, she’s dragged into it). And don’t get her started on how fucked up the system could be at times. She idly taps her pencil against her notebook as she tries to force those anger-provoking thoughts out of her head.

“JiWoo,” the teacher says, scaring her out of her stupor. “Can you answer the question?” She blinks, looking at the whiteboard and sees a handful of questions. Her heart races even faster out of sheer panic as thirty pairs of eyes turn to look at her. She swallows and is about to shake her head, but Kai Huening - her lovely and sweet seatmate - leans in next to her and whispers the answer to her, saving her from looking like an idiot in front of the whole class. She answers with “X = 4” and the teacher looks at her with narrowed eyes before nodding and praising her for answering correctly. JiWoo lets out a sigh of relief, dropping her head down before turning to thank her fellow classmate who smiles and gives her a cute little thumbs up. With that crisis averted, she turns back to her notebook and blinks, noticing the little doodles lining the edges of the page. A series of thick Xs, snakes, and a somewhat realistic human skull decorates the outer margin area of the notebook sheet. As she erases them, a dark song yet happy tune begins to play in the back of her mind. 

_“Wouldn’t it be great if we were dead?”_

She shakes the thought out of her head and attempts to focus on the lecture, every so often glancing up at the clock. Before class is over, their teacher mentions he needs to step out for a few minutes and asks the class to study their notes while he’s gone. Of course the second he’s out of the room the whole class erupts into a chattering mess. Everyone’s complaining about how hungry they are and thank god lunch is next on the schedule. Unlike her classmates, she actually tries to study the notes she never got the chance to write down thanks to her spacing out from earlier. “Oh god,” she mutters and looks up to the board at the front of the class, hoping there were some notes left to copy.

“You can copy my notes,” Kai speaks up, catching her attention and she smiles in relief.

“Thanks, Kai. I owe you one,” she says while he slides his notebook over for her to see, and the moment their fingers brush up against each other, a small electrifying shock courses through her arm. She almost pulls back, startled by the sudden spark. Her cheeks heat up as she attempts to block out the voice (which sounds scarily like Seungkwan’s) inside her head teasing her about the small encounter. 

“I can explain it to you if you need as well,” he adds, the boyish smile never leaving his lips.

“Can you? I know I shouldn’t have been spacing out earlier,” she says and gives a sheepish giggle. He assures her that it’s fine, he gets it, their math teacher could put a herd of water buffaloes to sleep if he really wanted to. In the five minutes that their teacher is gone, he teaches her what they learned in today’s class and she’s happy that she actually understood it. She, fortunately, understood it better from her seatmate rather than their wordy teacher. 

“Wow, we should totally study together sometime?” she asks, not noticing the other’s blushing cheeks and large saucer-like eyes. When her eyes meet his, he manages to stutter out a reply.

“Y-Yeah, sure, I'd like that.” Despite the nerves, he smiles back at her. “Not like I didn’t offer to tutor you before.” He lets out a small giggle, elbowing her in the ribs. She flinches and simply smiles, taking a moment to respond with a small sharp breath, trying to play off like that didn’t just fucking almost murder her. It’s so bad she forgets what they’re even talking about and asks him to repeat what he said. 

“Oh right.” She brings a palm to her forehead, thinking back to the quiz last week, the scary mark at the top of the quiz burned into her mind. A three out of twenty is nothing but a failure. She remembers looking over and feeling the heat creeping up her face when she saw Kai already marking all of her answers before their teacher could even read out the first question to grade as a class. At that time, she wanted a massive sinkhole to suddenly open up and swallow her whole. She sometimes wonders what she did in her past life to get seated next to one of the smartest guys in class, yet she somehow is unable to even get more than three questions right on a simple test. After handing them back, Kai offered to tutor her. She didn’t know why she declined that time, but it might have been the nagging guilt that she would burden him with her lacking mathematical skills. 

“JiWoo?” His voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Maybe she should take him up on it. “Are you okay?” 

“O-Okay, I mean yes I’m okay. But I’ve changed my mind. Can you still tutor me? I’d really appreciate it.” She gives him a hopeful smile, going so far as to clasp her hands together in a pleading motion. At this point, she needs all the help she can get. The _last_ thing she wants to do is to bring home yet _another_ F to her brother. If that happens again, she swears she’ll dishonor herself, her brother, and Soonyoung’s Hoshi Yoshi.

“Sure,” he says, giving her a kind smile. “Just let me know when you’re free.” She nods before looking up at the clock once more, class will be over in a few minutes. 

“Thanks so much! You know how awful I am with math, I’m surprised I haven’t flunked a grade because of it!” It’s probably thanks to her smart brother who used to help her with her homework from time to time, but since he started college, she doesn’t like to bother him too much as he has his own assignments to stress about.

“You are pretty bad at it,” Kai says with a hint of a chuckle in his tone. She pouts at him which forces him to look away and laugh some more when she complains that he wasn’t supposed to agree with her, that quickly either. Then their teacher returns and the class quiets down almost immediately. Just before their teacher can speak, the bell rings for lunch, causing everyone to bolt out of the classroom until it’s just JiWoo and Kai left, sitting there with stunned looks on their faces. 

“You’re dismissed,” the teacher says with a small laugh, exiting the room as well. 

“Jesus Christ, they ran out of here like their butts were on fire,” JiWoo mutters while shoving her stuff into her bag. “I could never,” she adds, standing up with an audible crack in her hip, or was it her knee? Ankle? Shoulder? Maybe her back? She doesn’t know anymore. 

“I guess they’re starved, I don’t blame them,” Kai says with a chuckle, holding his stomach as it quietly growls. 

“I get it, I’m fucking famished,” she mumbles before slapping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to curse in front of you!” All she gets is a genuine laugh, his eyes twinkling as he hides his smile with his hand. For some reason, it makes JiWoo’s heart flutter and her cheeks burn. _But why?_

“Well then, should we go eat?” He gestures towards the door. She quietly nods, following him out of the classroom with that weird fluttering feeling in her chest. She ultimately chalks it up to anxiety from interacting with someone she’s not quite familiar with. _Yeah, that’s definitely it._ Once she sees her friends in the cafeteira those feelings should go away. 

“Hey!” one of Kai’s friends greets them when they enter, approaching the back table. Seungkwan and Vernon are already seated amongst Kai’s friends, chatting up a storm. And that’s when JiWoo notices, those feelings don’t go away like they usually do, instead, it grows when Kai takes a seat right next to her. _What the hell…?_

* * *

By mid-day, exhaustion has done nothing to help Junhui’s bitter mood. His stomach groans in protest as he leans over his endless pile of paperwork at the end of his desk. For an exhausted moment, he thinks about all that paper magically disappearing. Blinking, he rubs his eyes and grabs his long peacoat (forgoing his navy wool scarf) , wrapping it around his broad body before heading out into the warm September afternoon, yet despite the fickle weather, he always feels cold. He strolls the streets of Sector Zero, his eyes scanning for something to eat, alone. He pauses at Network Love, peering in before deciding not to indulge in the ‘positively orgasmic food’ Jeonghan keeps talking about. Junhui looks away from the couples and friends gathering around the various tables, laughing and chatting amongst one another. 

Painful loneliness settles in his stomach as he continues to stroll the streets. His eyes stare ahead, avoiding the people as much as he possibly could. The wind around the main street picks up, blowing bits of papers around, slapping them into the light posts as he continues to walk. He misses the warmth of another person and what it brings into his life, despite being known as someone who literally emits sunshine. Junhui looks around the street, looking for something decent to eat before seeing Aju Nice Bakery, a cute little building situated in the heart of the city. The lady who owns the bakery loves Junhui (it might have something to do with his ability to speak her native language than his charming good looks). 

Walking in, he’s bombarded with massive scents of sugar and butter. His stomach grumbles pathetically as he approaches the various baked goods. His eyes scan over all the possibilities, causing him to stand at the display stand for a good ten minutes, trying to pick between the croissant and quiche. 

“See something you like?” a tall man asks, looking at him with a child-like grin. Junhui tilts his head in confusion. It’s rare to see anyone but Mingyu manning the till. That familiar bitter feeling settles inside Junhui as he finally picks the croissant and pays. When he bites into the buttery, flaky bread, he tastes nothing. His eyes gloss over as he heads back to the office building. _What has my life become?_ An endless stream of dead-like routines, with nothing to look forward to. He likes it whenever Mingyu works, he loves hearing the insane stories of his roommates (especially the ones about his fictional wife and his fictional son, Junhui’s convinced Mingyu could write an entire novel about their antics). The stories provide Junhui a short mental escape, one that doesn’t involve paperwork and long, lonely nights with contracts and some chocolate. 

He wonders if he should adopt a cat to hang out with him at home, but that seems cruel. He’s not home enough to look after such a thing. Hell, he barely looks after himself - if his insane online shopping addiction (price, he reminds himself. He’s totally _not_ addicted to shopping) says anything. His feet automatically take him back to his office (which is directly besides Jeonghan’s) and he sits back down. Four years of isolation can drive someone mad. Junhui wonders how he hasn’t broken down into pieces. Maybe he should’ve gone into acting instead of business, he’s really good at the fake smiles and how he’s able to produce them like they’re nothing. He’s going to have to pretend that everything’s okay until he’s done with his internship. 

As he dives back into work, his heart hurts at the silence that lingers all around him. His wrists ache as he continues through his growing pile of paperwork as he unconsciously causes a snowstorm to form outside - something he seems to be doing more and more. His fingers twitch with impulsivity, forcing Junhui to pick up his phone and opening his shopping app. He scrolls with determination through his enormous wishlist, tongue clicking with every scroll. What will he add to the ever-growing list of packages? His thumb hovers over a cat scratcher before adding it to his online cart and checking it out. Satisfied for only a couple seconds, Junhui places his phone down. 

When he dives back into work, he can still hear the clock mocking him as time ticks on. His heart continues to ache as he does, with toxic thoughts swimming through the back of his mind while his fingers work. That familiar harsh voice of a former lover comes to the forefront, forcing Junhui to work even harder than ever before. “ _I gave up on you because you don’t have anything else to offer than your looks._ ” Two hours pass without a second glance. 

* * *

Wonwoo taps his foot as he and the large bread loaf known as Mingyu Kim (that really hot baker Soonyoung is always bugging him over - a person who Soonyoung thinks Wonwoo should technically get together with [to help with his sexually pent up emotions]) stand in the local eye shop Lucky Vision, wondering how long it’ll be before the student’s glasses are fixed. Wonwoo stares up, squinting slightly to count the dots on the ceiling as the technician assesses the damages to the thin wire glasses. 

“I don’t think we’ll be able to get these fixed until tomorrow,” she says, walking around the counter. “I’m sorry this happened to you and we’ll try our best.” Wonwoo closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, before nodding with what she’s saying. He squints his way out of the shop with Mingyu following behind like a lost puppy. It isn’t until the two of them are outside, Mingyu breaks the silence. 

“Look, I’m really sorry for—” 

“You owe me,” Wonwoo says, his voice low and cold, sending icy chills down Mingyu’s spine as the older turns and glowers at him. “I’m blind until my glasses are fixed and I was supposed to be studying. How on earth am I supposed to study now!?” 

“I-I mean… I’ll help pay for your glasses… And anything else you want.” Mingyu rubs the back of his head sheepishly, ashamed at what he has done. Never in his life did he think he’d somehow break the glasses of his favourite customer (and perhaps, totally not obvious crush). Maybe when he gets home he’ll ask Seokmin for some relationship advice, but perhaps that’s not the best of ideas considering Mingyu’s pretty sure Seokmin has never, ever broken Soonyoung’s glasses. _Does Soonyoung even wear glasses?_

“Anything?” Wonwoo asks, eyebrow-raising up in contemplation. “Really?” 

Mingyu nods frantically. “Yeah, anything! I’ll mow your lawn, mop your floors… fold your underwear. I swear.” The older pauses for a moment, as if debating whether or not to take such an offer before sticking his hand out towards the younger.

“I swear if this is some kind of joke, I’ll cut your head off and give it to my roommate.” Mingyu lets out a nervous laugh, clasping his hand around Wonwoo’s (and secretly noting how soft they are yet cold); hoping the threat is nothing more than a joke. With that deal out of the way, Wonwoo sticks his hand back into his pockets and hoists his backpack up higher on his shoulder. “Now… What the hell were you doing on campus? You’re not in school last I heard.” 

“Oh, um…” Mingyu says, playing with the hem of his sweater. “A neighbour of mine forgot something her daughter really needed for school and asked if I could bring it. I figured since it was my day off and—” He stops rambling, feeling the weather around him get much warmer than it normally is on a brisk summer’s day; and panic begins to claw its way into Mingyu’s mind. He looks over at the older man, who is a few meters away, nodding along to everything the taller is saying, hoping he doesn’t notice the changing weather. Nervously, Mingyu continues to talk, his words coming out like sludge all while the temperature around them continues to rise. He tugs at the collar of his sweater, contemplating taking it off when his heart slows down from seeing a familiar face in the distance. 

“Wonwoo~!” Soonyoung Kwon - a regular customer at the bakery and his roommate Seokmin’s boyfriend - shouts, waving his hand in the air from the patio seat of Pretty U - a local tea shop that’s rather popular with university students. “You got the hot baker with you! Mingyu, do you have something tasty for me today?” Beside him, Wonwoo tenses, his eyes rolling as the duo approaches Soonyoung and his friend, what looks to be a young kid with cotton candy pink hair and a pair of thick black headphones on his head.

“I didn’t think you guys were gonna be here so early,” Wonwoo replies, feeling his way into a seat next to the boy with pink hair. The boy didn’t look up, only responding with a simple head nod at the pair. “Oh, this is Mingyu. Mingyu, these are my roommates: Soonyoung and Jihoon. But it seems like you already know Soonyoung.” 

Mingyu laughs, “Yeah, he’s a regular at Aju Nice. He likes our cream puffs.” That seems to satisfy Wonwoo’s curiosity, as the older male sits down next to his friends, quickly pulling out his homework. Mingyu awkwardly stands next to the table, fiddling with his hands as his stomach begins to growl; loudly too. Hunger sets in like a lioness to their prey and before he knows it, food is all he can think about. Looking around, he scans for anything that resembles food, licking his lips when he sees a pizza stand nearby. “I’ll… I’ll be right back or not, I literally have to go to work! Bye!” And with that, Mingyu dashes across the street and disappears into the parlour. The moment Mingyu’s gone, Soonyoung turns his full attention to a very annoyed and disgruntled Wonwoo. 

“So, tell me,” Soonyoung says, his mouth quirking up into a cheshire grin. “How did you two get together?” 

“He broke my glasses, you uncultured egg tart,” Wonwoo snaps, irritation settling in like a family friend. He’s never sure why he gets so annoyed by Soonyoung, maybe it’s the carefree way the other carries himself (something Wonwoo can’t do without overthinking every little thing). Or maybe it’s the way Soonyoung just knows how to get under Wonwoo’s skin - either way, it pisses him off more than it actually should. 

“I could go for some egg tarts,” Jihoon mutters, to no one in particular. But no one pays him any mind - not when Jihoon gets into his ‘moods’ where no one talks to him or else they pay the price. Which is normally a loud shriek of “Oh my god, you ruined it!” and a lot of unnecessary sulking. 

Soonyoung, however, waves off that simple (and quite frankly, juvenile) insult and continues to pester his roommate until the group (minus WonWoo) sees Mingyu dashing out of the pizza parlour; holding a box of pizza in one hand and two slices stacked on top of one another in the other hand. They watch him head down the street and into the horizon, that box of pizza still in his hands. Soonyoung looks over at Wonwoo and snickers, “You got some weird tastes, speaking of that, I better get going. Got another hot date with my lovely, very real boyfriend.” Soonyoung doesn’t stick around to hear Wonwoo’s suspicious retorts, running off in the opposite direction. Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his eyes and wishing for the day to be over. 

“Stop sulking,” Jihoon says, slapping Wonwoo on the shoulder, hard. “I’ll buy you something delicious.” 

“All I want is to be able to see what I eat,” Wonwoo complains, standing up and promptly tripping over a rock. “Fuck.” 

“Would ice cream make it better?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Good, cause that’s all you’re getting.” Jihoon picks up his bag and laptop, slinging it over his shoulders as Wonwoo scampers up and flails after Jihoon, latching onto the younger as the other drags him to the local ice cream shop. Wonwoo’s car would really come in handy right about now thanks to their college being located in Sector A-5 and they live all the way in Sector A-1. At least they can cut through Sector Zero and get something out of it along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like it, please leave a comment - cause I'm a massive comment whore and don't deny anything


	2. We’re On Another Mentality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [no tears left to cry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Kme4qetSxU) by Ariana Grande
> 
> Okay, before this chapter gets blasted to the moon and back: we mean no harm by calling Minghao 'Mom' - to us Minghao (in this chapter) displays more motherly tendencies. Plus, let's be real here; anyone - regardless of gender - can be a mom. - Lithium012
> 
> So please be nice and don't turn it into something it's not either, thank you~! - iheartkpopXD

There’s an intense feeling of suffocation in the busy city of Beijing as Minghao walks through the crowded city streets, feeling everyone push through one another like it’s a race on who can get to their job the fastest. But the native Chinese photographer takes his sweet time walking through the streets, pausing every so often to snap a picture that he’s sure Mr. Wen would like. The sharp contrast of a busy city life with a lazy country life is what startles Minghao. He sometimes thinks back to his own childhood, contrasting the glittery upper-class life to the poverty-stricken underbelly of the city. As he strolls lazily through the city, his sharp eyes scan the dark alleyways, you’ll never know who or what might be lurking in the shadows. Something moves in the background, scaring him. His heart rate picks up as he stalks a little closer, a mocking voice (which sounds scarily like Mingyu) chimes in with a helpful “ _ curiosity killed the innocent cat _ ”. A large rat appears from behind the trash can, stands on its hind legs and hisses at Minghao. 

He would be a fool to not get such an amazing shot, so he lifts his DSLR to his eye, praying that the rat will stay still. He captures the picture at the last second and jumps back when the creature lunges at him. Satisfied with the pesky human leaving his territory, the animal returns to its hiding spot. Minghao continues to roam the streets of Beijing until the middle of the night. At four in the morning, he returns to his hotel room, falling dramatically onto the bed as he stares up at the ceiling. A minute passes before he sits up and tugs the bag of Baozi out of his messenger bag. It’s still warm from when he snagged it on his walk through the busy marketplace. The stand owner didn’t even blink an eye at the skinny Asian kid, standing too close to the prepared Baozi. Minghao was in and out within seconds. 

Taking a bite of the warm bun, he allows the flavour of BBQ pork lather his tongue, coating his taste buds. He almost lets out a loud moan from how amazing it is. The salty taste of the pork contrasts nicely with the semi-sweet dough of the bun. Eating Chinese street food alone in a fancy hotel room begins to weigh on Minghao like an Egyptian tomb. He looks at himself in the massive mirror that hangs near the bed, next to the television. He stares at his messy, shaggy black hair that hangs over his eyes. His circular glasses (the only relatively expensive thing he owns) glint in the thousand dollar mirror, sitting on a ten-dollar human. 

Even sitting here in this fancy hotel room (paid for by Mr. Wen himself) is a contradiction. A poor boy that grew up on the streets, stealing food every day is now sitting in a room that probably costs more than Minghao himself. He swallows his mouthful of food, before jerking his eyes away from his reflection. In his messenger bag, his phone begins to vibrate, scaring him out of his state of self-pity. He uses his clean hand to dig into his fabric bag (it’s fraying at the edges and filled with mismatched patches, but Minghao couldn’t bring himself to get another one. Not when it’s a gift from his grandmother) and yanks his phone out. He slides to accept the video call from Seokmin. 

He’s met with Seokmin and Mingyu’s faces, both encased with one of those face masks Seokmin’s mom sends him in his monthly care packages. Minghao feels his lower lip stick out into a pout, wishing he was there with his two best friends instead of being in a lonely Beijing hotel. 

“Hi, Hao!” Seokmin shouts into the phone, waving frantically as Mingyu mashes his face into the screen. “How’s Beijing!?” 

“Gyu,” Minghao deadpans, moving his phone away from his face; saving him from seeing Mingyu’s pores. “You’re too close. And Minnie, Beijing is busy; like usual. I miss you guys.” 

“We miss you too,” Mingyu says, moving back. “Don’t lie, you like my beautiful face.” He winks at the camera comically before the trio breaks down into silly laughter. Minghao leans against his bed’s headboard, finishing his buns as Seokmin rattles about his day. Something catches his attention, the very second Seokmin mentions not having a bad day for the last three weeks. 

“Wait,” Minghao says, pausing Seokmin’s story. “You went through three  _ weeks _ without having a bad day?” A massive smile breaks out onto Minghao’s face. “That’s amazing Minnie! As your platonic mother, I’m proud of you.” 

“Thank you, mom!” 

“How come Seokmin is allowed to call you ‘mom’ and I don’t!?” Mingyu asks, his tone teasing as Minghao rolls his eyes. The sharp response lingers on the edge of his tongue but he holds it back, not when Seokmin looks so bright and joyful right now. Seeing Seokmin’s happy, sunshine face drop into rain hurts the Chinese boy. “I thought we were in this together.” 

“We are,” Minghao replies, his sharp eyes burrowing into Mingyu’s head, hoping to silence the taller. Thankfully, after four years of being best friends (lovers for one), Mingyu shuts his mouth, eyes telling him that they’ll talk about it later. A crisis averted, allowing Minghao to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

* * *

Seokmin hates working weekends at the shop - he hates the lack of people coming in to get delicious coffee (even though Seokmin thinks coffee is absolutely disgusting), he hates the lack of energy the weekends bring and finally, he hates the lack of Joshua working with him. The other weekend workers, one who is rather short and bug-eyed while the other is only slightly taller with a kinder face and kinder eyes, don’t particularly enjoy engaging in Seokmin’s strange conversations. (Plus the one with the kinder face is always in the kitchen, making little pastries and doesn’t have the time to talk). 

So, the brunette huffs, resting his chin on his palm, leaning over the counter and scowls at the lack of customers. The bug-eyed man slips behind Seokmin, humming a song (a song that sounds ominous like a cult chant) as he cleans the espresso machine. Seokmin looks behind him for a moment, turning back to the front of the cafe. What else is there to clean? Everything has been wiped down, then wiped down again and then wiped down for the third time. 

“Hey,” the short man says, scaring Seokmin from his position and daydream. “Wanna write the specials out on the chalkboard?” He sticks two pieces of chalk, one red, one white and another brown, into the brunette’s face. 

“Uh… sure,” he says, taking the chalk and placing it in his apron, walking out of the counter and picking up one of the autumn pamphlets, taking it along with him. Outside is unnaturally chilly (perhaps from the rain), cold and moisture seeping through Seokmin’s thick, fleece sweater, causing him to tremble and shiver. His hands tremble as he takes out the chalk, staring at the blank board and the pamphlet in his hand. The first attempt at writing turns out illegible and like a toddler wrote it. 

He erases it all, shaking his head at his own failure. 

But the second time, it’s like the wind stops blowing its wicked air around him. He quickly writes out the new autumn specials, not wanting to stay outside in the frigid cold any longer than he should. 

“Seokmin!” Said person jolts, the water barrier he unconsciously created splashing down on the soggy leaves-covered ground. He whips around to see Soonyoung standing there, his red scarf with what seems to be a little fat hamster riding in the thin scarf. “You know if you use your powers out in public—”

He doesn’t know if it’s the fat hamster in Soonyoung’s scarf or the price for his power but Seokmin starts to laugh hysterically. He drops the chalk and the pamphlet on the muddy ground, bending over and placing his hand onto his knees, lowering his head and laughing. He laughs so hard that tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes and standing becomes a challenge. But the laughter soon stops when he feels Soonyoung grab hold of the younger, steadying him in the process. 

“Hoshi Yoshi is offended,” Soonyoung says, sticking his finger into a little pocket of the scarf and giving the fat yellow hamster a scratch on the head. “He’s sensitive about his weight you know.” 

“I would be too if I looked like a tiny dough ball,” Seokmin replies, picking up the fallen chalk. “I’m sorry Hoshi Yoshi, I didn’t mean to laugh at your weight, that’s just… my price.” 

“I thought we’ve been over this though.” Soonyoung sticks his lower lip out, forming an adorable pout. “Hoshi Yoshi isn’t  _ that  _ fat, he’s just… fluffy.” The younger stares down at the blond, then at the hamster just nestled inside of the red scarf. The tiny eyes stare up at the glorified cashier (he really thinks that his work involves other things  _ besides  _ managing a cash register) before letting out a sneeze; which Soonyoung mirrors. 

“We should go inside before you catch a cold.” 

Soonyoung loops his arm around Seokmin’s arm, pulling the taller closer to him. “Well, it’s not going to be  _ that  _ bad if I get sick.” 

“It was bad!” Seokmin’s eyes suddenly grow wide, staring back into the memory of taking care of his ill boyfriend of two years because the older doesn’t care much for his weak immune system. He remembers Soonyoung clinging onto him, not letting go at all for the next four hours as Seokmin laid there, unsure of what to do and really needing to use the bathroom. And within those four hours, Seokmin learned that he’s very good at producing an elderly man's voice the moment Soonyoung began talking in an elderly woman's voice. This wasn’t, and still isn’t, the ideal partner for anyone with a functioning brain, but Seokmin has never been a normal human with a functioning brain. 

He snaps back into reality, feeling his fingers go numb from the cold. Shivering, he drags his partner into the toasty coffee shop, relishing in the warmth as Jaehwan enjoys being unnaturally warm. 

“Oh, you brought in a customer,” the short coworker deadpans, his eyes still staring, unblinking at the two of them. “That’s good customer service right there.” Seokmin can’t tell if the other is being sarcastic or not, but he brushes it off, returning to his station and staring out into the empty cafe as Soonyoung looks over the many coffee-fueled drinks above. The blond frowns at the copious amounts of drinks that have caffeine in it. 

Soonyoung, after a good ten minutes of staring at the colourful menu board, before deciding on a vanilla hot chocolate, cringing from the caffeine high memory that enters his mind. Little Hoshi Yoshi (yes; it’s the greatest name in hamster history) sticks his fluffy head out of the yarn scarf and wiggles his nose. 

“Do you guys carry anything safe for hamsters?” Soonyoung asks Seokmin’s disgruntled coworker, who stares in confusion. “Like fruit, strawberries are Hoshi Yoshi’s favourite.” 

“I have no clue,” the man replies. “Anything else less weird?” Soonyoung shakes his head, heading around the counter and waiting for his drink (as well as for Seokmin’s shift to end). The sound of the espresso machine rings through the eerily quiet coffee shop; if Soonyoung wasn’t aware of his surroundings, he would’ve thought he was in a haunted coffee house. Oh, the joys of having a scary movie lover friend (Wonwoo) who loves dragging the older (Soonyoung) to the theatre (at night no less) to watch all the latest horror movies. 

“Here,” the short man says, placing the rose-pink cup on the counter. “Enjoy.” Soonyoung nods, grabbing the cup and heading towards a table close to the window, letting Hoshi Yoshi stick his head out and stare at the sprinkle of rain falling. A clatter of a ceramic plate causes the dancer to jolt, whipping his head around from the window and staring at a slice of strawberry shortcake in front of him. Then, a small piece of strawberry makes its way over to the chubby hamster, who greedily takes it and proceeds to stuff it into his mouth. 

Seokmin pulls out the other empty chair hesitantly, staring at Soonyoung as if to silently ask the older man if he could take a seat. In which, the response is a silent nod and a gesture towards the empty seat; an indication to sit. 

“Did you make this?” Soonyoung asks, sinking the fork into the soft cake, bringing the fork towards his mouth. The golden coloured slice of cake, mixed with the creamy buttercream lathers itself over the dancer’s tongue, swirling in a mixture of airy and delicate with a hint of sweetness. Similar to what Jihoon is towards the people he cares about (and when asking for some of that good shit). 

“Uh… No, Mingyu made way too much and I now have cake for lunch,” Seokmin says, leaving out the small fact that he had eaten at least three entire cakes within the last few days - giving himself a sugar high that drove Minghao up against the wall in frustration (despite being millions of miles away). 

“Oh well, thank you. And Hoshi Yoshi is super thankful!” Soonyoung beams with the brightest smile, having a little bit of cream on the edge of his lip. This, along with the bright smile and the unwavering happiness causes Seokmin’s face to heat up into a blush as he clears his throat and mutters a small “no problem.” They sit in silence as Soonyoung (and Hoshi Yoshi) gobble down their treats, a small thought playing in the back of Seokmin’s mind as he watches. 

“So, uh,” Seokmin says quietly, looking at his fingers and trying to formulate the right words in his head (even if Soonyoung thinks otherwise). “Are you busy later?”

Soonyoung pauses from shoving cake into his mouth and looks up at the ceiling as if his schedule is stuck on the cafe ceiling. He tilts his head a bit to the side before responding. “No, not that I know of. Why?” He gives Seokmin a bright smile, all while peering at the younger curiously. 

“Want to catch a movie with me?” Seokmin’s voice softens, to the point of mumbling, feeling his shyness kicking in. “It’s okay if you’re…” His voice trails off near the end, mumbling the final bit of his sentence. 

“What?” Soonyoung leans forward, a vain attempt to hear the younger to no avail, Seokmin’s voice almost disappears as he repeats what he said. Soonyoung might need to get his ears checked or something. “What?”

“I said, ‘Go on a date with me later!’” Seokmin almost shouts and then freezes in his spot, wide-eyed as his voice rings out through the deadly quiet cafe. Soonyoung sits there, eyes widening as well, shocked by the sudden outburst but then, a slow smile begins to form. 

“Sure. I’d love to.” He lets out a small giggle when he sees Seokmin smile in utter relief. 

“I’m sorry, even after all this time… it’s still nerve-wracking to ask you out on a date,” Seokmin admits with a sheepish smile.

“I think it’s cute, don’t worry,” Soonyoung assures him, reaching across the table and patting the younger on the arm. He can feel his own face heating up; as if it’s the first time again, being asked out by Seokmin Lee. The butterflies in his stomach are growing restless and he can feel his heart picking up the pace. He wonders what kind of witchcraft Seokmin does to get Soonyoung to feel like a schoolchild, where he could barely look at the other without blushing. But then, in his scarf Hoshi Yoshi lets out a little hamster squeak, snuggling back down into the red scarf for a quick nap. 

“Hoshi Yoshi is so rude,” Seokmin says. “Squeaking during the moment.” 

“I blame all of this on WonWoo,” Soonyoung deadpans. “He’s full of shit and he knows it.” The couple stares at one another before breaking out into laughter, Hoshi Yoshi nearly falling out of the scarf in the process. In the midst of their laughter, someone - perhaps the very disgruntled, always judging co-worker - clears his throat, scaring them apart. 

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else?” the shorter man says, his eyes never blinking. “You’re making me vomit in my mouth and in the coffee.” 

Then the other worker, the baker as Seokmin comes to know him, sticks his head out of the door leading to the kitchen. “Don’t be crude Kyungsoo,” the baker scolds. “Seokmin, you know your shift ended…” He glances up at the Milky Way designed clock, squinting a bit to see the time. “An hour ago.” 

“Wait, really?” Seokmin asks, looking up at the clock, then standing up (begrudgingly removing his hand from Soonyoung’s) and removing his apron in one swoop. “I’m free! Seokmin is a free elf!” He dashes off into the back room, high off the energy (much to his coworkers’ dismay) before returning in a light blue raincoat. He salutes his fellow workers before grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and dragging him out of the cafe; back to his shitty apartment for their date. 

(Even if, on the way there, Soonyoung gets a little too excited and begins floating up towards the sky; giddy and high on love. Only to remain grounded and conscious from Seokmin wrapping his arms around the older’s middle and tugging him closer. Soonyoung has to admit, hugs are the best way to keep grounded). 

* * *

Mingyu’s arms hurt as he kneads the large glob of dough in front of him. He looks up at the bakery’s ceiling, praying for the muscle strain to end when his prayers are answered in the form of Feifei Wang. She walks over, her hair tightened up in a high bun, as she ties her apron. 

“I’ll take over from here,” she says, hip checking Mingyu away from the bread dough, motioning him to work on rolling the fondant, something the younger male is happy to do. Anything is better than making a hundred small dinner rolls for a wedding two days from now. He rolls up his long, flour-covered sleeves and gets to work. The room temperature fondant rolls easily underneath Mingyu’s well-loved rolling pin (he named her Roberta). The kitchen fills with a comfortable silence, and this is the part where Mingyu loves his job. He loves the smell of sugar melting in the dough; it’s whimsical to smell and see. He loves watching cakes rise, knowing that it’s filled with nothing but love and dedication in them. Just as he says that the timer on the oven lets out a shrill  _ ding  _ scaring the younger male. 

Feifei, like the head chef she is, pauses her dinner roll making and heads over to the oven. The room quickly fills with the mouth-watering scent of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. Mingyu’s stomach growls, reminding him to eat before he passes out. As if on cue, Feifei grabs one of the strawberry cupcakes off the cooling rack and chucks it over. 

“You should eat,” she says, her sharp eyes still focusing on the cakes in the oven. “I don’t want my best baker to pass out. Then I’d have to call Sungjae and we all know what that’s going to be like.” Mingyu nods, scarfing down the cake, groaning slightly at the subtle hints of fresh strawberries incorporated in the batter. Baked to perfection, just like how Feifei likes it. 

“How are the cakes?” he asks, mouthful of delicious cupcake (that’s actually meant for the guests at the wedding, but Feifei is the boss here and Mingyu knows much better than to cross his boss). 

“Just right.” She pulls them out, sliding her massive knife into the edges to loosen them up. In a flash, she flips each one onto the cooling racks and saws off the tops, making them flat and even. “You did a good job.” Mingyu beams, polishing off the cupcake and returning to work on the fondant. The order itself is unnaturally complicated, but he should’ve expected that. It’s a wedding, someone’s special day and whatever the bride and groom want, they shall get. He gets the fondant to the right thickness and folds them up in plastic wraps. Tomorrow is when everything comes together, he couldn’t be more excited. 

The evening shift is often dead quiet, but even with all of the customers gone for the day, the bakery is never done with their duties. Not when there are orders to fill every day. Weddings, though extremely rare, do happen; that’s when Aju Nice Bakery is the busiest. The work is often divided between two bakers, one of whom being Feifei Wang, the woman who takes care of the hardest orders that come in. The other is often Mingyu, the baby of the bakers and yet, he has proven himself time and time again that he’s more than capable of handling such complex orders. It’s the Korean male’s secret pride until he remembers the sneers of some of the more experienced pastry chefs that used to work there. 

As he picks up the ingredients for buttercream, he can still remember the difficulties he had adjusting to the competitive nature of Aju Nice. The very senior chef that trained him (a man Mingyu couldn’t for the life of him remember his name) placed him on the introductory things. Not that the tall male minded, he liked baking whether it be simple fruit tarts or complex macarons, he loves them all. But, he remembers feeling inadequate every time he tried to help his mentor; the elder male would sneer and assign the younger to cut up fruit. Perhaps it’s Mingyu’s eagerness that drove the elder male away or perhaps it was Mingyu’s notorious clumsiness (something he’s not proud of at all; not when he accidentally dropped a bowl filled with chocolate mousse). Regardless, he couldn’t help but feel like an outsider those first six months of working. 

That feeling of being an outsider resonates within him, ever since he was young. It’s painful for him to feel like that, the feeling of a tight heart wrapped around an even tighter chest. It’s like his ribs are squeezing the life out of him, trying to suffocate him slowly. He knew he’d feel like he’s standing on the outside, looking in, back at his elite culinary school. But he never expected to feel like that here, when he’s surrounded by others that were exactly like him. 

He supposed that’s why Feifei took him under her wing, allowing him to flourish like a blooming flower. What Mingyu lacked in dexterity he made up for in enthusiasm and his endless willingness to learn. Passionate is what his parents called him, but Mingyu viewed it as determination. 

Now, shaking those thoughts out of his mind, he focuses on carefully beating the buttercream, folding the smooth concoction with tender loving care. With every fold, he adds in bits of a vanilla bean they had. It’s a painfully slow process, with Mingyu’s muscles burning once again, but it’s worth it. It’s worth the look of happiness on the client’s face and it’s worth the praise he gets from his true mentor. When the cream is deemed fluffy enough, he slides it over for Feifei to taste. Then the buttercream is chilled in the massive fridge overnight to prevent it from melting. Then, the process repeats itself two more times, instead of adding in bits of vanilla bean, he adds in melted chocolate for one and creamed strawberries for the other. 

The kitchen smells like heaven and time flies when heaven is looming over. By nine pm, Feifei calls it a night. 

“Go home and get some sleep,” she says, tucking the pre-made dinner rolls into a metal pan holder and slipping it into the walk-in cooler. “You’re going to need all your strength for tomorrow.” Mingyu nods, wiping his station down and placing the dirty dishes into the massive, industrial dishwasher. His walk home feels a bit giddier than usual. 

When he unlocks the door to his shared apartment, the first thing he notices is the massive pile of blankets on the sofa. All the lights in the living room are off and the television is on, playing some kind of infomercial. Mingyu toes off his shoes and quietly hangs up his jacket before tiptoeing into the living room. Soonyoung sits there, eyes focused on the show with his hand carding through Seokmin’s messy brown hair. Soonyoung looks up at the taller and gives his signature toothy grin before putting his finger to his lips, mimicking a ‘quiet, someone is sleeping’ gesture. Mingyu doesn’t have to know that it’s the beginning of Seokmin’s ‘bad days’. 

The youngest male simply nods and pads off to his bedroom, his stomach growls pitifully, a familiar feeling he’s grown up with. Exhausted, Mingyu strips himself down to his boxers and curls up under the blankets; too tired to cook.  _ One night isn’t going to kill me _ , he thinks, closing his eyes. It hasn’t before, so why should it now?

* * *

It’s nine in the morning when Soonyoung finally returns to his home, entering when the gang is having breakfast. Wonwoo looks dead inside, probably from the sheer amount of lab reports he has due within a few weeks, from the way he sips his coffee. Jihoon, on the other hand, is whipping up something delicious by the stove, with JiWoo giving him a hand. The look in her eyes sends nothing but guilt down Soonyoung’s body. Everyone could see how much of a crush the teenager has on Jihoon (well everyone but Jihoon) but no one has the heart to tell her that the pink-haired male is taken and has been for five years now. In fact, no one knows how to bring it up; it’s not a topic you’d normally bring up in conversation. Soonyoung has decided to keep his mouth shut until she finds out or Jihoon does (considering how dense the pair are, it doesn’t seem like any time soon). 

“Where were you all night?” Wonwoo asks, not looking up from his notebook. “I was about to call the police to report you missing.” 

“Aww, you do care!” Soonyoung says, sliding into his seat at the table, swinging his legs playfully as Wonwoo scoffs, rolling his eyes fondly. Soonyoung merely smiles, knowing his roommate well enough to know there’s never any malice behind his words. Quite contrary to Wonwoo’s cold exterior, he holds a massive heart (something he doesn’t like to admit). “I was out with my boyfriend.” 

“I thought we’ve been over this.” Wonwoo takes a dramatic moment to drink from his mug, sharp eyes finally staring into Soonyoung. “Until you bring your ‘boyfriend’ over, I refuse to believe it.” 

“I don’t see why you don’t believe me,” Soonyoung says in exasperation, rolling his eyes. Jihoon drops a plate of French toast in front of Soonyoung, which he happily digs into, biting into the fluffy bread encased in a hard eggshell. Just a hint of salt in the pile of sweetness, just like how the dancer likes it. “He’s just… nervous about meeting new people.” Soonyoung swallows, his lips quickly pulling into a frown as he thinks about Seokmin’s panic attack in the middle of the movie. It’s uncharacteristic to see the younger male so distressed by something on screen. In fact, little pieces of the other begin to fall into place as Soonyoung eats breakfast. Every so often (every two weeks at this rate) Seokmin would just drop off the face of the earth, not going into work nor calling anyone. It’s like the other wants to disappear off the face of the Earth. 

“I think,” JiWoo says, snapping Soonyoung out of his thoughts. “Wonwoo just wants to see if your ‘boyfriend’ is treating you well, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” Soonyoung merely says ignoring the blatant disrespect. “He’s a great person. Like I said, he’s just nervous around new people.” 

“Which,” Wonwoo says, jabbing his fork in Soonyoung’s direction. A piece of French toast hangs off the prongs and a part of Soonyoung wants to lean forward and take a bite. “Indicates that he doesn’t exist.” 

“Why are we arguing about this at the breakfast table?” Jihoon mumbles, his sleepy head hanging down as he picks the edges off his toast. “Soonyoung is dating Seokmin, I’ve met him before. He’s a nice kid.” 

Wonwoo merely scoffs, muttering something similar to “Well I haven’t met him” before returning to his notebook, eyebrows furrowing as he scribbles something down. The remainder of breakfast continues normally, with JiWoo excitedly telling the three older boys about getting an A on her history report. And by the time Soonyoung is done with the dishes (a par agreement with Jihoon when he first moved in), his roommates all disappeared. Wonwoo is saying something about needing to redo his experiment at the university lab (apparently something isn’t correct with the numbers so he has to check them again). Jihoon is locking himself in his bedroom/recording studio (though no one dared bother Jihoon - except for JiWoo, of course, but she doesn’t count - especially when his final project is coming to an end soon). And JiWoo merely says she’s going out with her friends again, leaving out the door with her brother. 

Soonyoung sighs, pulling Hoshi Yoshi from out of his pocket and placing the tiny ball of fluff inside his cage for some much needed rest. Of course, not before checking the bedding for the little guy and refilling Hoshi Yoshi’s food and water bowls. In the midst of his morning routine, his phone begins to ring somewhere in his bedroom. He drops whatever he’s doing and rushes into his messy room, digging through piles of clothes scattered haphazardly around (he makes a mental reminder to clean up after himself). Eventually, he finds his phone underneath his pile of sleepwear and answers it with him trying to control his breathing as he totally wasn’t tearing up his bedroom looking for his cellphone. 

“Soonyoung?” Mingyu asks, his voice more awake than he was last night. “Do you mind coming over at five to look after Seokmin? He’s having a bad episode and I can’t be here to make sure he’s okay.” 

“A bad episode?” Soonyoung asks, nibbling on his lower lip. What does that mean? Is Seokmin okay? “What do I have to do?” 

“You never experienced his bad episodes before?” Mingyu sounds unnaturally shocked at the older’s admission, which puts nervous butterflies in the pit of the dancer’s stomach. “I guess I’ll leave it to Seokmin to tell you. But, all you have to do is make sure he gets out of bed and eats.” Soonyoung nods despite knowing Mingyu couldn’t see him over the phone. The younger thanks him in advance (promising a delicious cheesecake in the dancer’s honour) and hangs up. Soonyoung sinks into his bed and places his head between his hands. The burden falls upon his shoulders once again, weighing him down like an anchor. 

Taking care of someone ill falls upon him and Soonyoung isn’t sure how to feel about that. He remembers how his mom went through the same thing for  _ years _ before she got help she needed.  _ Depression is a bitch _ , he thinks bitterly, feeling utterly helpless in the whole situation. But it isn’t his battle to fight, it’s Seokmin’s. And all Soonyoung can do is stand behind him and be as supportive as possible - even if it hurts to watch. 

* * *

The bathroom opens to allow the steam from Mingyu’s nice much needed hot shower to escape into the hallway. Toweling his hair, the tall baker takes the short walk towards his bedroom, not before looking into Seokmin’s bedroom. The blanket lump is still there, not moving like how he was last night. Mingyu frowns, closing the older’s door softly before padding next door to his own bedroom. He falls against his bed, staring up at his ceiling before reaching over to grab his phone off the bedside table. 

It’s almost time for Minghao to be awake in Beijing, making Mingyu’s decision to call the younger male more acceptable. The dial tone drones with no indication of pausing, it’s like falling down a well (something Mingyu has done while living in Italy, funnily enough). Just as he’s about to hang up, Minghao finally picks up on the other end. 

“You better have a fucking good reason as to  _ why  _ you’re calling me at six-thirty in the morning,” Minghao grumpily snaps. 

“Well good fucking morning to you too,” Mingyu snaps back, despite having no real bite to it. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” He could practically  _ feel  _ Minghao rolling his eyes despite the pair being hundreds of miles away. He hears Minghao mumble something before the phone shifts and the Chinese burrows under the covers. 

“Is it about Minnie?” Mingyu closes his eyes, hating how Minghao could read him like a book. “How bad is this episode?” 

“Pretty bad…” Mingyu says, rubbing his eyes. His hair laying against the towel, drying in the barely warm apartment. “He hasn’t moved in twelve hours and I made him doenjang jiggae.” 

“Did he eat it?” 

“No. Didn’t even touch it!” Mingyu can hear Minghao gasp. The knowledge of Seokmin not eating his favourite food in the entire world (something Seokmin doesn’t do) provides their final roommate with enough clues. He can hear Minghao shift in bed, perhaps pulling the covers off and preparing to hop on the next plane back to America. “Don’t worry, I got Soonyoung to come over to look after him tonight.” 

“But I could come back and he doesn’t have to—wait, does Soonyoung even know about Seokmin?” 

“Uh… I guess Minnie never told his boyfriend of two years about it…” He could imagine Minghao slapping himself in the face over it. “Plus, you won’t be able to make it back in time. I’m working in an hour and you won’t be able to get a flight this early.” He hears the other sigh, wishing to argue more but knowing for a fact that he wouldn’t win. At least the Chinese photographer will be coming home in two days time. Hopefully, by then Seokmin will be out of his bad episode (the longest he’s been in one was half a month). 

“Well, keep me updated on his condition,” Minghao says, yawning. “I’m going back to sleep.” 

“I will, no worries,” Mingyu says, closing his eyes. “Be safe.” 

“You too.” The line goes dead, and Mingyu sits up, wondering how Seokmin is going to explain the situation to Soonyoung. Running his fingers through his damp hair, he prepares for his shift - the final touches to make before the cake, cupcakes and dinner rolls are sent off to Pinwheel Catering. Just as he’s changing into his work clothes, he mentally slaps himself for not cleaning the dishes like he said he would. In a quick moment of panic, he conjures up a clone of himself and sends the mimic to the kitchen. Once he hears the kitchen sink running, Mingyu lets out a sigh of relief. 

Half an hour later (fifteen minutes is because Mingyu tripped over his unnaturally long legs in the process of getting his pants on and he needed to lie on the floor and groan in agony), he emerges from his room with his coat in hand. Just before five, he disintegrates the clone seconds before Soonyoung opens the door. 

“Hi!” the elder says, giving Mingyu a plastic bag (he thanks the lord for Soonyoung Kwon because the bag is filled with nothing but rice balls). “I’m here to see Seokminnie.” 

“He’s in his bedroom,” Mingyu says, grabbing three of the rice balls and stuffing them into his massive jacket pockets before dropping the rest on the dining room table. “Just… don’t force him out. It makes it worse. Let him come out on his own.” Soonyoung nods, his eyes firmly looking at Mingyu; the look of honesty and care on his face. With that, the taller male bids the shorter goodbye, heading out the door and locking the apartment behind him. 

He worries about his friend the entire way to work.

* * *

Seokmin wakes up to an oddly warm bedroom (which is very strange considering how much the apartment’s heater would break and how Seokmin’s room is the coldest out of the three). Perhaps it’s the layers of blankets he has on him, three to be exact, just the way he likes it. But shifting out of his overheating blanket cocoon, he blearily looks around his darkened room. It’s early evening when Seokmin finally wakes up from his sleep - a habit he’s been trying to curb for the past five years ever since his mind became like this. It’s distressing, to say the least when he realizes that he missed work again. The third missed shift after he was doing so well. Disheartened, he falls back into his bed, curling up under the covers and presses his face into the pillow. Tomorrow, if he’s feeling better, he’ll explain to Jaehwan why he didn’t show up (even if the manager already knew and excused the behaviour). 

A few moments of lying there, Seokmin lifts his head and grabs his phone, seeing a million and one messages waiting to be answered. Something he couldn’t bring himself to do. Instead, he opens up a gaming app, tapping aimlessly on the colourful pieces that come flying out at him. His reflexes are simply too slow and within seconds, Seokmin changes the game. One that’s slower on his confused and laggy mind. A knock on his door startles him out of his gaming (not like he’s making much progress in it anyways), and his brain tries to fill in the blanks. Today Mingyu is working to get ready for a wedding tomorrow and Minghao is still in China. Who the fuck is at the door? 

“Minnie?” Soonyoung asks. “Can I come in?” 

What happens next is what Seokmin describes as utter panic and a lack of energy. He’s nothing more than exhausted, exhausted from being awake and exhausted from panicking over something so stupid like a movie. With what little energy he has left, he tells the older to come in, unable to move from his bed. Even holding his phone up is tiring. The bedroom door creaks open and Soonyoung’s blond head pops in, a cheeky smile plastered on his face as he enters. Seokmin tries to do the same but he could feel the smile loses its momentum, reducing it to a soulless, hollow thing. Soonyoung stands nearby, eyes scanning the disastrous state of Seokmin’s room, probably judging him for it. 

_ Whatever,  _ the younger thinks, burrowing back under the covers.  _ It’s not like it matters anyway. _ That’s at least what the melancholic side of his brain says, but the choleric side of his brain screams at him in utter frustration.  _ Could you be any more stupid? He’s judging you!  _ He’s stuck in an uncomfortable position of caring too much and not caring at all, and he’s not sure which one to side with. 

“Can I slip into bed with you?” Soonyoung finally asks. “It’s really cold in your room.” Seokmin hesitates before nodding, shuffling over a bit to accommodate the older. He squishes himself in and wraps his arms around Seokmin’s shoulders, back hugging him. It’s comforting especially in the barista’s time of internal distress where all he wants to do is shut down and never come back up. Sleep stopped coming to him easily when he entered high school and he still doesn’t know why. 

They lay in bed, breathing softly as Seokmin finishes his game. He runs out of lives twenty minutes in and lies there, listening to Soonyoung breathe. He can’t help but wonder if the older male is going to break up with him, leave him for someone more emotionally stable (something Seokmin himself wholeheartedly agrees with, shockingly enough). His bad days are creeping up on him more and more, it feels like he can’t go a week without slipping into this numb state of mind. The bad thoughts bombarded him like atomic bombs exploding out in the Pacific Ocean, and when he’s able to clear them and think clearly for once, they come back like a plague. Then it builds and builds and builds, until nothing's left to do. He shuts down and tries his hardest to fade away. 

And then the cycle continues. 

“Minnie,” Soonyoung mumbles sleepily. The poor thing, he probably didn’t get any sleep last night and Seokmin couldn’t help but feel responsible. Seokmin feels his heart clench painfully with the very secret he’s been holding inside from everyone for five years now. “When you’re ready, I’m here to listen. Don’t be scared okay?” Like all the air in the room disappears and all that’s left is the sound of the pair breathing. Taking in a shaky breath, he tells himself that he’ll come clean to Soonyoung. Tomorrow, when he gets at least twenty-five percent of his energy back. 

* * *

Minghao couldn’t fall back asleep, not since Mingyu called him two hours earlier. His mind is focused on Seokmin, his heart whimpers painfully as he imagines the oldest roommate under his covers, alone and not telling anyone about what he’s feeling and what he’s thinking of. Like he’s handling all of his issues alone, and pretending that he’s okay. Minghao knows what it’s like to handle all of his issues alone, as he stands under the shower, lathering his body with soap that smells like roses (and probably costs more than his camera). He remembers pressing down his telekinetic powers from his peers (Minghao couldn’t really call them peers, they were more like acquaintances) for the fear of being stalked in the dead of night and beaten to death. 

He shudders at the thought of his past, rinsing off the floral smelling conditioner. When he steps out, his body smells like his former neighbour’s flower garden; a thousand dollars of product suddenly goes down the drain as if they mean nothing. And as Minghao dries his hair, he remembers his mother’s words when he showed up at her doorstep, four years after leaving for America. 

“ _ Be careful out there, Xiao Hao. I don’t want you to fall back into your old ways. _ ” He’s seen his mother’s face fall into sadness and regret, as if she blames herself for the way he turned out. But Minghao knows it’s no one’s fault but his own. Yet, seeing how his mother’s face lights up like a Christmas tree; he’s determined to keep that pride on her face. Toweling his hair, he quickly dresses in something decent (nothing is more embarrassing than flashing ten million people at nine in the morning). Hair still wet, he dresses in something slightly fashionable (he lies, it’s very fashionable) and grabs his camera before heading out. 

His stomach growls as he wanders the bustling marketplace with nothing but the screams of merchants to accompany his thoughts. Minghao’s sharp, doe-like eyes scan the busiest stall, looking for the one with the most amount of people and the least amount of workers. As much as he’d love to go for something like hotpot, he knows the amount of money he has - and is about to make - isn’t worth the cost. So, in the midst of the marketplace chaos (god bless the old Chinese ladies and their constant desire for haggling), he snags a jianbing from an insanely busy stall, quickly shoving it into his messenger bag before anyone notices. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Minghao notices a very pretty bing tanghulu stand in the corner of the marketplace. As he moves closer, he sees a sleeping worker there while his sweet treats remain unguarded. Minghao bites his lower lip, wondering if he could be greedy and take one of the candy-coated strawberries skewers. Those treats are normally given to him once a year when his mother saved up enough pocket money to buy him one. He stalks closer, eyeing the sleeping man with the handsome face and just as he’s about to steal one, Minghao suddenly chickens out, turning around quickly. 

He mentally scolds himself, greed and desire slowly ebbing into his mind. He blames Mingyu for all of this coming into his mind. 

“You want one?” Minghao freezes before jerkily turns around. The man at the bing tanghulu stand is still asleep, so where is that voice coming from? He looks around when the supposedly sleeping man at the bing tanghulu barely cracks an eye open and stares at the younger male; a lazy smile spreading across his face. “You want one? I saw you eyeing them.” 

“How?” Minghao asks, an eyebrow rising; his heart racing in his ears. He looks for something to keep him grounded but unfortunately finds nothing. “You were asleep!” 

“No,” the man says, closing his eyes again. “I’m never asleep.” Minghao glares at the man, his emotions running out of control. In the middle of his annoyed hazed, a handful of skewers begin to float in the air, flying towards the younger. He snatches them out of the air as the man sits up and opens his soft, kind-looking eyes. His mouth is pulled into a frown, head tilting slowly to the side, confused. 

“You could’ve just asked,” he drawls out, waving his hand haphazardly. “I wouldn’t have charged you and you wouldn’t have gotten a headache.” Minghao groans, glaring at the bing tanghulu stand man - how could he possibly know that? In fact, he couldn’t have known that Minghao used his power carelessly. But as he looks around the crowd, he wonders if someone else noticed but it seems like no one is even looking over this way. School children, the ones who’d actually stop by this sweet stand, continue walking as if the stand doesn’t actually exist. Minghao looks back at the stand, finally noticing the way the stand wavers in the air, it’s a very faint flicker of an illusion as the man walks through the stand. 

The sweets in Minghao’s hands disappear, fading into a line of brightly coloured smoke. He whips around, his long black hair flying into his eyes, as he watches the man let out a massive yawn. 

“Why did I wake up so early to see you?” the man wonders aloud, blinking sleepily at the photographer. “I waited for five hours for you.” 

“ _ Why? _ ” Minghao has never met someone so idiotic before. Who the hell waits five hours for someone to appear? “Are you stupid?” 

The man shrugs. “Maybe. I’m Yixing, do you want to get breakfast together? I promise it’ll be better than the jianbing you got there.” Minghao raises an eyebrow at him, unsure if he should trust that man. But there’s a part of him that wonders what’s the worst that could possibly happen. He nods, feeling his stomach growl painfully before following Yixing down the streets. Minghao keeps his distance, his suspicious nature (a byproduct from growing up in the slums of Anshan) comes into play. He knows people like Yixing, the ditzy persona is nothing more than just that: a persona; and the next thing he knows, Yixing could turn around and rob him blind. 

But when the older one turns down an alleyway, Minghao’s suspicion grows. Then, the suspicion turns into disbelief when Yixing begins to lazily knock on the brick wall, mumbling something in Korean. Minghao could only pick up bits and pieces of the phrases the older man is saying, but not enough to form a proper sentence. Like in the movies, the brick wall begins to rumble, the shaking terrifying Minghao as he grabs onto the chain link fence to stop himself from falling. Yixing doesn’t seem fazed, standing in front of the wall with a dopey smile on his face. Finally, the shaking stops and a massive opening - complete with creepy smoke coming out - stands there. Minghao’s eyes grow wide, staring at Yixing then at the massive hole in the wall. 

“Are you coming or not?” Yixing asks, stepping through the hole in the wall. “I think I have some extra youtiao and doujiang.” Minghao will chalk it up to the fear of being seen as insane or a hooligan that’s damaging buildings for fun, for the way he scrambles away from the chain-link fence and follows the man. The dimly lit hallway proves to be a massive mistake as there’s a high possibility of getting murdered in this place and no one will know. 

Finally, the dimmed hallway gives way to a brightly lit kitchen with a pot sitting simmering on the modern-looking stove. In fact, in contrast to the dilapidated building on the outside, the interior is nicely furnished and well maintained, it’s like walking into one of those modelled homes that’s in every suburban neighbourhood. Yixing casually gestures to the breakfast island’s high chair, before turning towards the stove. 

“Do you want one youtiao or two?” 

“Uh…” Minghao says, intelligently. “One is fine.” He still has that jianbing in his bag, even if it’s going to be cold by the time he eats. Yixing hums, preparing the bits of breakfast he has lying around. For a second, Minghao wonders if it’s filled with poison. But before he can ask, another person walks into the kitchen. The person (a guy, Minghao thinks) blinks tiredly at Yixing’s antics before running their fingers through their short, nappy hair. 

“Did you make me some?” they ask. “I want two youtiao!” 

“Okay, sit down Amber.” Amber (so Minghao guesses they aren’t a guy) slides into the seat next to Minghao and rams her sharp elbow into his skinny side. 

“Holy shit,” she says, grabbing at Minghao’s body, making him giggle like a school child. “You’re so skinny. Do you even eat!?” 

“Why are you touching me!?” Minghao giggles, squirming away from the female’s tickles. “I eat enough, thank you very much!” 

“Ah,” Yixing says, returning with everyone’s doujiang. “That’s Amber for you. She’s a lovely person isn’t she?” Either the Chinese male is blind to notice her antics aren’t quite normal, or he’s so used to Amber just randomly touching strangers in their ribs. Minghao moves away from the female, in lieu of getting groped unnecessarily. It isn’t his fault he has a fast metabolism, it’s just something he’s born with. Yixing then shuffles back to grab everyone’s youtiao, placing himself in between Amber and Minghao, and they finally get to eat. Minghao would be lying if he didn’t think the food he’s eating is the best thing he’s ever had here in China. 

“How did you find him?” Amber asks, through a mouthful of youtiao. 

“He tried stealing from my fake stand,” Yixing replies, both of them talking to one another like Minghao isn’t there. Not that he has anything to say; his cheeks burn with embarrassment as he dips his head down, shoveling his food into his mouth. 

“That’s ballsy. Hey, kid!” Minghao looks up, cheeks puffed out and eyes wide in questioning. “Are you a contractor? What’s your power? Do you have more than one?” The younger male doesn’t know what to say, in fact, he’s not even sure what the hell a contractor is. He hasn’t been to China in a little while but surely, language hasn’t changed  _ that  _ drastically, has it? He shakes his head, chewing the fried dough slowly while drinking a gulp of the warm soy milk. 

“Slow down there Amber. Someone will find you and explain it all.” Yixing nods, patting Minghao on the shoulder. “Just be careful.” 

“Be careful of what?” Minghao asks, finally swallowing the warm bread down into his belly. “Who are you even talking about? Do you guys have powers too?” 

“Illusion,” Amber says, pointing to Yixing. “Barrier or force field.” She points to herself. How she said it, gives Minghao more questions than answers. There are so many questions swirling inside of his head, all of which he knows is never going to be answered. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking when asking them. Neither one gives him a proper answer, they’re all hidden in vague clouds of mystery; each confusing him more than the last. Maybe he’s overthinking it, or maybe he’s just too much of an idiot to realize the hidden depths of their words. Either way, Minghao feels like he’s overstayed his welcome, standing up and telling the older two that he’ll see them around. 

“Oh,” Yixing says, stopping the younger in his tracks. “Tell Seungcheol I said ‘hi’.”

* * *

When Soonyoung wakes up, it’s the middle of the night - an entire day wasted in bed, not that the elder minds too much. Looking over, even through his foggy sleepily brain, he could tell Seokmin is still sleeping. The soft breathing relaxes Soonyoung for a moment before the guilt starts filtering into his stomach. It’s painful to say the least but it’s there. How come Soonyoung hadn’t noticed all the signs? Was he blind? In the two years they’ve been together, were the signs missing? Soonyoung lays in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks about it, filtering his memories, looking for signs of Seokmin’s bad days in his mind. Maybe they were there. Maybe Soonyoung didn’t notice them or maybe Seokmin has been hiding them away. Tucking his burdens into the deepest corners of his mind and buried underneath a pile of regret and sorrow. It actually hurts Soonyoung to see Seokmin, normally happy Seokmin, crumpled on the bed like he’s some disgusting piece of trash.

There’s a moment of sorrow and regret seeping in through the older’s pores when he feels the bed shift a bit and the table lamp turns on, blinding them for a moment. Blinking away the glaring lights, Soonyoung turns to face an exhausted Seokmin. He looks like he hasn’t slept in years from how dark the bags under his eyes were. He reaches up, rubbing his eyes sleepily before letting out a loud yawn. 

“Were you awake long?” Seokmin asks, his voice scarily normal for someone hurting so much. But like Soonyoung’s mother would always say, “the people who hurt the most are people who hide it”. He knows all too well what that’s like. 

“Not long,” Soonyoung replies, shifting himself comfortably. “Are you hungry? Mingyu said he left some doenjang jiggae for you.” His heart plummets when he sees Seokmin shut down into himself, biting his lower lip. His eyes look at anything but Soonyoung and that’s when the dancer knows not to push the subject anymore. 

“I’m fine,” Seokmin finally says. “I’ll be okay. I just need to sleep it off, you know?” 

“Has it been working?” The silence becomes deafening as Seokmin stops looking at Soonyoung. It’s an embarrassment for the younger, as he dips his head down, burying it under the pile of blankets. He groans, his insides eating their way out, gnawing at his muscle and flesh. Whimpering, he peeks out, wondering if the older sees him as less than human. He didn’t expect Soonyoung to be staring at him, patiently waiting for Seokmin to say something. 

“I… No… I mean-It’s fine, I don’t want to bother people,” Seokmin replies weakly. His eyes turn downwards, looking at a loose thread on his pillowcase. “I’m fine.” 

“Seokminnie,” Soonyoung says, his voice sounding like a soothing harp to the barista’s ear. It almost breaks Seokmin’s harsh diamond walls down, but they remain, standing strong against the flood. “I don’t think you’re fine if you’re not eating or going to work. Doesn’t it hurt?” 

Like all the air has been sucked out of the room, the couple stares at one another. One of them patiently waiting for his partner to talk, while his partner struggles to form his words - struggling to think properly; struggling to wear that cracked mask. Seokmin can hear his own personal demons screaming at him, insulting him and berating him. He can feel his thoughts attack his body, tearing out his organs and liquidating them. All that reminds in the bed is a hollow shell; unblinking, unfeeling as he stares at Soonyoung; still waiting innocently. 

“Of course it hurts,” Seokmin whispers. “But what am I supposed to do? There’s  _ nothing  _ that will make the hurt go away. I’ve seen doctors about the hurt and they can’t do anything.” He thinks about the millions of pills he’s taken over the last five years, where nothing works. Nothing to make his mind stop thinking of the rain clouds that block out his own personal sunshine. Everything turns into shades of grey, drowning Seokmin’s happiness in a watery grave. On his bedside table right now, Soonyoung could see the half-full orange bottle of little white pills. 

“There’s always ways to make the hurt go away,” Soonyoung mutters, wrapping his arms around Seokmin’s waist, pulling the younger closer until their bodies press against one another. The warmth of Soonyoung pulls the younger out of the state of numbness, but only for a second. The cold numb rush returns, dragging him down under the waves; welcome back to the watery grave. “You just have to make the scary first step.” 

“All the steps are scary.” Seokmin’s eyes gloss over, staring at Soonyoung’s star patterned t-shirt. “I just never want to… I can handle it on my own. I swear.” 

“And is it working?” Another moment of stunned silence. Seokmin thinks of the looks his roommates often give him whenever he gets into his bad days. The snippy, irritated comments that leave his mouth without thinking and the fallen hurt looks that Minghao and Mingyu would send him. Then the nighttime comes and Seokmin stays up till dawn replaying those looks of hurt, replaying the harsh, bitter words that lingers on his tongue. Trying to handle it on his own hasn’t been working but asking for help is nothing more than a sign of weakness. Seokmin lived for this long with this unknown condition, why couldn’t he live the rest of his life like this? 

“It’s fine,” Seokmin says, his voice sharper than he intended it to be. “C-can we drop the topic? I don’t want to talk about it.” Pushing Soonyoung away, he turns to face the window and buries himself under the blankets. The shaky breathing returns before a soft silence takes control. Soonyoung closes his eyes briefly before he tugs himself out of bed and leaves his boyfriend’s room. He flicks on the television in the living room, tuning into a sitcom before helping himself to the stew sitting on the stove. 

When he plops himself down on the sofa his mind doesn't focus on the sitcom, instead, he thinks about Seokmin. The hurt, the glassy eyes, the dimming light all replays in Soonyoung’s head like a broken record or a dying film. He could hear the pain lingering in the undertone of Seokmin’s voice and he couldn’t help but wonder if there’s more stories Soonyoung doesn’t know about. His mind slowly begins to merge Seokmin’s lovely face with his mother’s. Both like to hide behind a mask of false well-being. Pretending they’re okay when they’re really not. 

At midnight the front door of the apartment opens and a very exhausted Mingyu stumbles in. Soonyoung looks up from his spot on the sofa, jumping up to help the taller man to the armchair. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, rubbing his tired eyes. “I didn’t expect to come home so late.” 

“It’s okay,” Soonyoung replies. “Things got busy over there?” 

“Yeah. There was a sudden… Well, let’s just say, there was an unexpected event happening.” Mingyu groans, shedding off his coat and hanging it up in the closet by the doorway. Biting his lower lip, Soonyoung could see the younger’s prominent canines poking out as the baker digs into his mind, lost in thought. He wants to ask but he doesn’t at the same time. “Seokmin, did he—?”

“No,” Soonyoung says, sitting down again. “He wasn’t hungry and I wasn’t going to force him.” 

“Yeah.” Mingyu nods, helping himself to a bowl of stew and joining the elder on the sofa - another episode of the same sitcom playing at low volume. “He’ll get irritated and snap at you if you force him.” 

“My mom used to get like that too,” Soonyoung mutters, knowing all too well the signs of depression. He could remember the days his mother would spend in bed, not eating, not drinking, not living. He remembers his dad begging his wife to eat something, anything and he remembers his mom losing her mind, snapping at him like an angry bear trap. “So, I get it.” 

“Hao and I just don’t know what to do. We want him to get some help but…” 

“It’s hard.” Soonyoung’s eyes focuses on the show, but both men know that neither one is watching the episode. They don’t laugh at the jokes or along with the laughing audience soundtrack. Neither one knows the names of the characters or what they’re doing. Neither really cares. “But, it’s up to him if he wants to get better. You can always suggest people but there’s no point in making someone go, unless he wants to die.” 

The apartment feels tense, like a tight rubber band ready to snap against the skin. “You know,” Mingyu says, lowering his chopsticks. “Hao and I have to make sure he takes his medications. He says he hates them but… it helps him you know?” 

Soonyoung suddenly stands, stretching his limber body out, shaking away the soreness. “All I can say is that I know someone. I’ll ask Seokminnie if he wants to see this person even if it’s for one session. I’m sorry I can’t help you more.” 

“It’s fine.” Soonyoung heads down the hallway, heading towards Seokmin’s bedroom. He pauses when he hears Mingyu calling for him. “Thank you. Have a good night.” 

“No worries,” he says. “Good night.” Seokmin is still asleep when Soonyoung crawls into the bed, wrapping his arms around the younger’s waist. Sighing, he presses his head between Seokmin’s shoulder blades, closing his eyes while listening to the younger breathe. He falls into a dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you like this story, leave a kudos or a comment <3


	3. In Broad Daylight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Bad](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIQmcwSg0nU&ab_channel=MichaelJackson-Topic) by Michael Jackson

Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his tired eyes as he pours over his newest cold case file from ten years ago: which involves a series of kidnappings seemingly with no recognizable pattern in the victims. At least, not one the brunet could see in his findings. The former case is about five centimeters thick, contains nothing of use to the detective; not even a picture of what a potential suspect(s) looks like. It’s a frustrating task for him, a man who greatly enjoys getting his assignments done so he could work on the other cold cases that have been sitting untouched for decades in the police headquarters file room. It breaks his heart whenever he walks down there to see more and more brown boxes filling the cramped space, knowing that there are family members out there just waiting for the cases to be solved. It breaks his heart, even more, when he learns the victim’s last known living family member has passed away without ever finding out what happened to their deceased loved one. 

Sighing, he pours over the victims once again; noting that three of them are high school students - all of whom happened to be out alone at night when they were taken. The other two are neither high school students (one of them happens to be a thirty-five-year-old man) nor were they taken while they were out walking at night (hell, one of the victims - a nurse - was taken during the day time). He groans, placing his head down once again, closing his eyes as he tickles his brain for something, anything that could connect all five people. His boss, the victims’ families and the public are growing restless with the lack of progress. 

“I hate this case,” Seungcheol murmurs, looking up at the ceiling. That’s when his desk phone rings, scaring the living shit out of him. His fearful heart calms down when he hears secretary Chae’s soft voice, telling him he has a call waiting on line one. Seungcheol braces himself as he answers it, half expecting it to be another upset family member yelling at him to hurry the case along. But it’s agent Han on the other line, a pleasant surprise for the detective. 

“ _ Did you find the others yet? _ ” agent Han asks. No greeting, no bullshit and straight to the point - something Seungcheol greatly appreciates. 

“Not yet,” he answers. “But I have a sinking suspicion on who each one of them are.” He pushes away the aggravating kidnapping case, to pull up another file. This one nearly fifteen centimeters tall, filled to the brim with pictures of each of the suspects. He opens the file and reads them out to agent Han, thankful for his pair of informants. Just as he does, an email from Yixing pings on his laptop, with a picture attached to it. It’s of a young man, with black-rimmed glasses and black hair trimmed into what the cool kids would call a “mullet”, looking directly down at his camera. A little message at the bottom writes:  **_I did my best._ ** At least the message is kinder than the messages he gets from Hongbin - that prickly cactus of a human often wrote something nonsensical at the bottom of every email. The most recent one happened to be “ **_Dipping spoons in lemonade tastes much better than dipping spoons in vinegar_ ** ”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. 

“ _ I’m letting you know the big bosses are on the move again _ ,” agent Han says, instantly capturing Seungcheol’s attention. “ _ Be careful and try not to bring too much attention to yourselves. Something you already failed given the recent explosion at the movie theater _ .” The detective pauses, before letting out another exasperated sigh, rubbing his eyes as he does. 

“I’ll deal with that,” he says, as the other laughs. 

“ _ I leave it in your hands. And detective Choi? _ ” Seungcheol lets out a small noise of acknowledgment. “ _ Good luck, you’re going to need it. _ ” 

* * *

Three days of intense cafe work (for some reason mid to late September has always drawn people in; Joshua thinks it’s the boss’s special autumn drink, but he could be wrong) leads into what’s supposed to be a day of nothingness (a present from Jaehwan whenever Joshua pulls an enormous amount of overtime - something that happens every month), only to be rudely awoken by his phone blaring next to his ear. He opens one eye, groaning at the time. Who the hell calls someone at nine am on a Tuesday morning? His hand flails, trying to find his phone buried under the sheets. Eventually, he finds it under his pillow, still ringing. Half asleep, he answers it without looking at the contact. 

“Hi?” he says, sitting up and shaking the sleep away. 

“ _ Good morning soulmate! _ ” Joshua jolts at the loud cheerful voice shouting in his ear. His eyes widen at the noise, nearly dropping his phone in the process. “ _ Oh, did I startle you? _ ” 

He doesn’t answer, looking at the contact; realizing who the heck is calling. He places his face into his hand, groaning into the phone. “Why are you calling me so early?” 

“ _ I missed your voice, _ ” the other says. Joshua can imagine the other’s mouth quirking up into a lopsided smile (does he like this stranger?). Why is he imagining an angel talking to him? Is he that lonely? He shakes his head, removing that thought from his mind; no he’s fine on his own - he doesn’t  _ need  _ someone in his life. If that’s the case, then why is his face heating up? 

“I… There’s nothing interesting about me,” he mutters, looking down at his lap as if the other man is sitting right there in front of him. “I don’t know why you constantly want to talk to me.” 

“ _ You’re more interesting than you think. I don’t think anyone has ever given me their phone number on a coffee cup before. _ ” 

Joshua doesn’t respond, his face feeling too warm and his brain feels too overwhelmed to formulate words. The fear of saying something stupid to someone new locks himself inside his mind, sewing his lips shut with thick, black wire. But the other man moves onto the next topic so fluidly, like a crystal clear river running downhill. And within seconds, Joshua finds himself leaning into the conversation, responding to every silly question the other asks. It’s like a friendship forming from the ground under, exploding through the dirt, and blooming into a bright red hibiscus. 

He nosedives through his morning routine, listening to the insane ramblings of the stranger, and realizing how free he feels. It’s as if the chains that bound him so rigorously before is loosening. It’s like he could breathe for the first time in years. 

“I hate to cut this short…” Joshua says, pulling on his light pink Converse sneakers. “But I have to meet my friend for lunch soon.” 

“ _ Oh, it’s fine, _ ” the man says. “ _ I have to see my friend too. But, do you want to continue… this talking thing? _ ” For a moment, Joshua could see insecurity lining the man’s naturally confident voice; like he’s just as terrified talking to Joshua as Joshua is talking to him. “ _ It’s okay if you don’t want to— _ ”

“I’d love to,” Joshua blurts out, leaning against his apartment door. He can hear how loud his heart’s beating in his chest - as if there’s a bass drum beating loudly in a marching band. “Only if you want to.” 

His cheeks flush again when he hears the other man say, “ _ I’d like that too. _ ” He hesitates to hang up but eventually does so. His apartment door locks automatically the moment Joshua lets his hand go - a function his friend Seungcheol got for him when Joshua first appeared in this city. It’s a fear of the older man that Joshua would somehow forget to lock his apartment door and leave it wide open for anyone to waltz right in. (That fear only came true twice, but Joshua never told Seungcheol that). 

As he makes his way to the Network Love, a trendy little restaurant nestled between a stationary store and bar on the main street, he hums a little song under his breath. A song about Sunday mornings getting stuck in his head for the last year or so.  _ Sunday morning, rain is falling. _ And that continues to replay over and over again in his mind. 

Network Love comes into the brunet’s view, giving him a sense of familiarity; one Joshua craves. He lets out a pleasant sigh and enters the semi-full restaurant. There’s something about the restaurant Joshua always finds magical, perhaps it’s the intricate lighting design that hangs in grids above them. Or perhaps it’s the sleek design of the dark oak tables and the smooth leather seats that give that magical feeling. He takes a hesitant step onto the wooden floor, eyes scanning the room for the older. 

In the back corner booth, he sees Seungcheol; head dipping down over his coffee, eyes closed while the restaurant’s melodic music plays overhead. If the other isn’t careful, he could fall straight into his breakfast. Joshua slides into the seat across from Seungcheol, noticing three place settings instead of the usual two. He’s about to open his mouth to ask the older about the third person when a voice sings out over the music playing. 

“Oh Seungcheol, are you awake yet?” 

“Barely,” Seungcheol murmurs, lifting his head and opening his eyes. “Oh, hi Joshua. Did you just arrive?” Just as Joshua’s about to nod, someone slides into the same booth as Seungcheol, slamming the older as he’s about to take a sip of his coffee. The new person, a man with an angelic face and slightly curled blond hair, slinging their arm over a disgruntled Seungcheol. 

“I can’t even drink coffee with you around,” he groans, scooting inwards. 

“This is why you love me,” the blond grins leaning over and stretching the dark-haired man’s cheek. His eyes soon drift over to Joshua, that bright blinding smile still plastered on his face. But there’s something slightly off about the man’s smile - perhaps it’s the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, or perhaps it’s the plastic feeling of the smile that unnerves Joshua. “I’m Jeonghan, and you are?” 

Joshua blinks, his brain working overtime as he slowly pieces everything together. No wonder that voice sounds so familiar. No wonder a wave of intense anxiety and desire washes over Joshua the moment the voice comes onto the stage. The two elders stare over at Joshua, as if to analyze the youngest. 

“You’re the guy who got my phone number,” Joshua stutters, eyes widening in recognition. The other man’s - Jeonghan - eyes widen as well as if finally understanding the words coming out of Joshua’s mouth. 

“Oh my god,” Jeonghan says, covering his mouth. 

Seungcheol, on the other hand, sits there calmly, looking at the two of them and taking a sip of his coffee. “Well isn’t this interesting.” He supposes answering Jeonghan’s text of ‘where are you?’ only invited him to crash his friendly check up on Joshua, but it can’t be helped now. Besides, he’s interested to see how this plays out. 

* * *

The music hallway is empty when Jihoon walks to the very last office on the left. Swallowing, he lifts his hand to knock, already knowing what Wonshik would say. But the email that sits at the very top of the undergraduate’s inbox scares him. A simple message telling him to see Dr. Wonshik Kim after his last class.  _ Did I do something wrong?  _ Jihoon can’t help but wonder if his senior project is a bust? Does he have to redo everything he poured four years of his heart and soul into? The thought of redoing everything stresses the pink-haired lad out, four years of music writing going down the drain. A part of him wonders what Seungcheol would think about him suddenly failing. Even though Jihoon knows that Seungcheol is an endless well of patience, he couldn’t help but think of the inevitable failure of his relationship that might follow. 

A low, gravelly voice breaks Jihoon’s toxic thoughts, telling him to come in. Twisting the ring on his left ring finger one final time, Jihoon walks in. “Ah,” Wonshik says, pulling his circular glasses off his face. “Jihoon, I was wondering when you were going to swing by.” Jihoon gives his supervisor a shy smile, bowing slightly before closing the door behind him. Wonshik’s office is nothing but inviting and warm, like a sweet grandmother’s home. If that terrifying email wasn’t sitting at the forefront of Jihoon’s mind, he would’ve been okay to invite himself in and take some of the cookies Wonshik keeps offering people. Thick music books line the shelves of the office as a soft melody (one Jihoon hasn’t heard before) plays overhead. 

Wonshik takes his sweet time packing up his items, setting them obsessively on the edge of the desk; allowing Jihoon to stretch his sweater out on the sofa. His heavy backpack lays beside him, a sharp reminder of his final thesis: producing a song for a superstar, in this case, the Korean-American pop singer Ren. Finally, Wonshik deems his books straight enough before he turns his body over, his droopy eyes burying their way into Jihoon’s skull. His heart begins to beat loudly at the sound of silence looming around them. He can feel a headache coming on as his blood runs frantically through his veins. The wait is agonizing. The hands on Wonshik’s clock tick mockingly as the professor clears his throat. 

“How is your final project going?” he asks. “Any progress with Ren?” 

“Ah, yes,” Jihoon says, nodding. “Ren is a lovely person to work with. He’ll be in town by the end of next month to finalize some of the recordings I’ve sent him.” He remembers the long nights of him staying up till the early morning just perfecting the composition and the lyrics of the song before sending it to Ren for approval. Jihoon’s nights became sleepless as he eagerly waited for the singer’s response. He’s never felt so much anxiety like this before. Wonshik leans forward, listening intensely. Parts of Jihoon’s supervisor reminds the student of Seungcheol, the eagerness to know what Jihoon’s doing, how he’s doing and his plans for the next composition, it brings a certain brightness to his eyes. 

“That’s great.” Silence consumes them once again, swallowing them down in a hazardous pool of anxiety. There are so many questions lingering on the student’s tongue, but something tells him not to ask them. There’s a tingle running up Jihoon’s arm and he shuts his eyes, praying that he doesn’t accidentally set anything on fire. It’d be embarrassing to explain to his professor why his fabric sofa is suddenly on fire and why Jihoon is so calm about it. 

“Jihoon,” Wonshik says, clasping his hands together. Jihoon braces himself for the cruel ending to his university career.  _ Say goodbye to everything good in the world, say goodbye to my promise to Seungcheol _ . “Do you have plans for after graduation?” 

“Uh…” he says, blinking a bit. How could he put his plans after graduation into words that are acceptable? No way in hell can Jihoon tell his professor that he plans on getting married to his highschool sweetheart after graduation. That’d be nothing short of embarrassing. “I don’t… I don’t know yet. Why?” 

“I have a proposal to offer you,” Wonshik says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. His steady eyes calm whatever anxiety Jihoon has floating around in his mind. He reminds himself to breathe. “Would you like to continue your studies under me? I’m working with Bring It Records and they’ve been looking for a composer.” Jihoon’s heart stops, his eyes widening at a literal dream come true. Bring It Records is one of the biggest record companies in the country; with its harsh competition and extremely limited positions, it’s almost impossible to land a job there. And now hearing his supervisor, the very man he looks up to, having connections to this exclusive company  _ and  _ he’s asking Jihoon to join. What kind of person would the undergraduate be if he didn’t accept? But just as he’s about to agree, something stops him. The weight of his left ring finger becomes a sharp reminder of the promise Seungcheol and him made years ago. That promise is the second Jihoon graduates from college, they’re getting married. 

Could he even be selfish and push his engagement just a little bit longer?

“Um,” Jihoon says, fiddling with a loose yarn piece on his sweater. “How long is this… proposal?” 

“Two years.” It’s another slap to Jihoon’s face, causing him to wince at the length of time. How is he supposed to tell Seungcheol that? Swallowing, Jihoon closes his eyes and hesitates with his answer. 

“Can… Can you give me some more time to think about it?” Jihoon asks. “It’s just… so overwhelming.” 

“I’ll give you until the end of next week, how does that sound?” Wonshik gives him a lazy smile before picking up his glasses and placing them back on his nose. “I look forward to working with you. Also, Jihoon?” The student pauses at the door, his backpack feeling uncomfortable against his shoulder. He turns his head a bit, facing his professor. “Congratulations on your engagement.” Jihoon nods as a thanks, walking out the office a tad faster than normal - diving behind a pillar and pressing his hands to his heated cheeks. This is why he rarely wears that engagement ring out; too many nosy people who don’t know how to mind their own business. Rubbing his tired eyes, he stares at the silver ring a little bit longer, wondering if he should take it off. 

If he took it off does it mean his relationship doesn’t exist? Does it mean he values it less than if he were to keep it on? That, Jihoon isn’t so sure. Yes, from the beginning they both agreed to keep hush hush, for the fear of outsiders looking at them like they’re freaks of nature. After all, who the hell would want someone four years younger than them when they could have someone their age? Jihoon never likes to admit that he feels insecure about his love for Seungcheol but it seems like those thoughts are becoming more and more frequent as the days continue. Maybe he should’ve, from the beginning, been honest about his five year relationship. No matter, what’s done is done and all Jihoon could do is hold his head up high and continue the hallway. Ring glittering in the light as he does so making him sparkle like the fabulous vampire he is. (He’s not a vampire, but he feels like one). 

* * *

JiWoo raises her arms over her head, stretching her tired body out - her last class of the day is finally done (unless you count P.E. that’s always skipped because no one likes P.E. Plus, she’s convinced the gym teacher is a sadist). 

“Stretches before P.E?” Soobin asks next to her as everyone is putting their things away before leaving. She hums in reply, confused before nodding despite not recalling what he just said. “My abs still hurt from yesterday.” He pouts while rubbing his stomach from the torture Coach Jones put the class through. 

“Right,” she snickers, she’s definitely not attending P.E now. “Thanks for the heads up.” 

She parts ways with him in the hallway, mentioning she forgot her gym clothes in her main locker and he simply nods and says he'll meet her there. She watches him disappear around the corner and lets out the deep breath she was holding in. Something she does to stop herself from dropping a random truth bomb. Instead of going to her locker, she heads for the front entrance while making a mental note reminding herself to bring the items they requested for next Monday, she wants a Sprite next time since Beomgyu promised two Colas. She’s disappointed none of the other band members wanted to do a trade with her, but then again, three sodas will last her three days. So maybe it’s better she doesn’t take on too many trades at once, because how else will she keep her precious fizzy drinks safe in her school bag?

Now that she has the next two hours or so to relax before having to head home for dinner (though it’s not guaranteed there’ll even be dinner when she gets home thanks to everyone having insane class schedules this semester). She hikes her backpack higher on her shoulders and heads down the crowded hallway, eyes scanning for her best friends. She sighs, pulling out her phone and sees a message from Vernon on the screen. 

**Banana Purée**

_ Yo, Kwan and I are outside _

_ Where r u?  _

**Me**

_ On my way~! _

She shoves her way through the remaining milling crowds of students on their way to the final class of their day. Once she’s made it outside she finds the two of them seated on a leaf-covered rock; Seungkwan animatedly chatting as Vernon nods every so often. Her knee-high converse storm across the uncrunched leaves, marking her place as she bounces up to the pair. 

“It’s fucking windy,” JiWoo says while holding her long locks out of her face, her frown hidden behind her thick turtleneck at the mere sight of her friends who had been cuddling close together, probably to keep warm. AL-1’s weather has been the most bizarre this year, the temperatures dropping at random, confusing people into wondering if the seasons have changed or not? But it’s clear something has changed between her two best friends. She’s suspicious of them suddenly.  _ Do they like each other? _

“It is,” Vernon says, slipping off the rock. “Where should we hang out today?” JiWoo is about to suggest they just forget about her, she’ll head home early. That way they can spend more time together since it’s clear she was probably intruding on something special between them just now, but she doesn’t get the chance to when Seungkwan speaks up before her.

“Somewhere that’s  _ normal _ for once,” the older says, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “Like the library or a cafe! No more haunted houses because I can’t have any more nightmares!” He turns to JiWoo, hoping she agrees so it’s two against one. She shrugs, simply satisfied that the day (which for some reason feels dreadfully long) is nearly over. She’s not implying that she wants to go home and sleep but that’s what she's trying to say. 

Just before the trio is about to leave (deciding on a popular restaurant that Seungkwan overheard from everyone at school who has been talking it, Network Love) they hear another student calling out JiWoo’s name, which in turn prompts half a minute of merciless teasing from Vernon and Seungkwan. They all turn to see a single male student sprinting over to them wearing a navy blue and white striped track jacket with a pair of matching shorts; his dark brown hair glistens in the light blue sky as he sprints that last of the way. By the time he reaches them at the entrance of the school, he bends over, placing his hands on his knees, trying hard to stabilize his breathing. The trio shares a silent look, each one unsure as to who the random student is for a moment, but when he looks up, the three realizes who it was calling out to JiWoo until he holds up a golden-coloured notebook. They hear Kai muttering that she forgot it at lunch earlier and he’s been trying to give it back ever since between their last two classes. 

“You know, you’re really hard to find,” he says with a half-smile, his breathing still laboured from running across the school campus. They only share one class together, that being Math.

“Sorry about that.” She takes the notebook from his warm hands despite how cold it is outside and shoves it into her bag. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime.” He flashes her a charming smile and she stares at him for a moment, noting how good-looking the student is - with his high cheekbones and full lips, before getting interrupted as Seungkwan clears his throat and mutters to Vernon that they should give them a minute alone. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, completely unsure as to why the two of them need a moment? 

“Oh, are you ditching again?” he asks when he notices she has on her bag, connecting to the mere fact that they’re standing at the front entrance of the school. They’re totally ditching unless Kai is an utter moron (something JiWoo wishes he was but knowing from marking his math quizzes, he isn’t). 

“Uhm, n-no?” She gives a hesitant nod and looks back at her friends for some guidance (and the only advice they could give her is a half-hearted shrug). A nervous feeling, something similar to waking up in the middle of the night to make sure Soonyoung didn’t burn the house down trying to make cookies or scrambled eggs, settles in the pit of her stomach. Will he snitch on them? “I mean, I  _ just  _ have P.E. but it was canceled, you know, because of the weather,” she says giggling nervously as she looks at her two friends, who gives her a thumbs up for trying. But her lie goes up in flames the moment something dawns upon Kai. 

“But… I have P.E with you guys,” Kai points out, beyond confused and looks down at his gym clothes and back to the school over his shoulder just as the second bell for class rings. Right, they actually share two classes together, but since she ditches P.E so much it’s totally slipped her mind but not his. When he turns back, he can see her stepping back a few steps out the entrance with a sheepish smile on her lips. “Wait, you shouldn’t be ditching.” He frowns, not expecting the quiet bookworm he sits beside to be a skipper - Vernon Chwe he understands a bit more.

“I said I’m not ditching!” she blatantly lies in broad daylight and gets a scolding from the magpies sitting on the stone wall close by. 

“ **_Look at these kids, they have no respect for themselves and don’t take their education seriously. And they wonder why it’s so hard to find a good job later on, tsk tsk_ ** ,” one of them says, turning its head away from the teen delinquency - first skipping P.E. then lying, what’s next? Bank robbery? JiWoo whips her head towards them and scowls. 

“Oh, tell me, what does floor hockey and basketball have to do with finding a successful job in the future?” She puffs out her cheeks and places her hands on her hips. “Mind your own damn business, you nosy fu—” 

“JiWoo, are you… actually talking to birds right now?” Kai catches her attention and she freezes up like an ice cube where she stands. 

“No! No, of course not,” she repeats again, lying. “Wait, I mean yes, yes I totally am.” Her eyes widen as she slaps a hand over her cold lips and cringes at the price she pays for her power. “Well, it was nice talking to you but I’m going to ditch now, bye!” With that, she turns and carefully books it out of the school, leaving Kai standing there speechless at their rather unusual encounter. Only a few seconds pass by before she pokes her head around the wall again, a childish grin plastered on her face. “Just please don’t tell anyone, thanks!” 

In his confusion, he manages to give her a reassuring smile and nods, agreeing not to tell a soul. “Only if I can come with you?” 

“No,” she blurts out immediately, flinching at how harsh it sounded.

“No?” He frowns while she nods in reply. “Then I’ll tell Coach Jones.” 

“You just promised you wouldn’t tell!” she huffs in a quiet whisper, disbelief plastered across her small face.

“Only if I can come with you!” he repeats, also in a whisper, and takes a few steps towards her, realizing they’re going to get caught if they stand there any longer. She notices and they both step out of sight from the front entrance where Seungkwan and Vernon are staring at them with questionable looks on their faces. 

“So…” Vernon says first. 

“Are we ditching or not?” Seungkwan adds on like he’s finishing Vernon’s sentence for him. 

“Well,” she snickers and looks to Kai, “promise you won’t snitch on us?” He nods and she holds her right pinky up, implying he makes the promise official. He hesitates at first but hooks his left pinky with hers and watches a smile spread across her lips, causing him to smile back when he feels that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. 

“Pfft, what are you, six?” Seungkwan teases and dodges JiWoo’s punch to his bruised shoulder (he can’t imagine what could have happened had she landed that punch a second time), she goes down with a small shriek onto the cold ground. Her friends laugh at her and she can even hear Kai join them. The laughter dies when Vernon helps her up and asks if she’s fine, to which she thanks him for actually caring. They don’t notice how quiet the other two had gotten and decide to start walking, asking each other which sector they should escape off to. Ultimately they decide on Sector Zero. It’s the only sector that has anything worth visiting like restaurants, Starlight Mall, and Moonwalker Arcade. The rest being full of housing, schools, AL-1’s police department, and the haunting cemetery. 

“Hurry before we leave you losers behind,” she calls over her shoulder to them. Without thinking or hesitation, Seungkwan hurries to Vernon’s other side and a shy smile reaches his lips when Vernon turns to smile at him. Distance grows between the drummer and the three students as he watches them leave school grounds. A part of him looks back at the school, wondering if he really should be skipping class, but another part of him wants that thrill. But he’s a straight-A student and someone who never breaks the rules, honesty and morality are what Kai Huening lives by. So, if that’s the case, what’s changing? 

“Kai?” He hears her voice ask and he notices she walked back over to him while her two other friends were further down the sidewalk. “You coming or not?” 

“Y-Yeah,” he shoves his hands into his gym pockets and follows her little trio on a sudden blind adventure.

* * *

Joshua places his head in between his arms, groaning at his horrible luck. Who would’ve ever thought that the person who has his number is the CEO of Good to Me fashion? What kind of spiritual deity did he piss off in order for this to happen? He looks up to see Jeonghan and Seungcheol quietly chatting with one another, Joshua hesitates to enter the conversation like he’s invading an intimate moment. He frowns, sitting up and begins playing idly with his utensils as the two older men continue talking amongst themselves - mainly about the two teenagers they’re looking after - something Joshua simply couldn’t relate to. 

Halfway through the conversation, Seungcheol turns towards Joshua. “How have you been?” 

“Huh?” Joshua dumbly says, blinking sleepily at the oldest. “What do you mean?” 

“At your job.” 

“You work at the Carat Cafe right?” Jeonghan asks, his dark eyes lighting up. “I freaking love that place.”  _ And it helps that the barista working there is cute _ . Joshua could feel his cheeks heating up like someone placed a hairdryer in front of him with it turned on the highest setting. He wonders how red his face looks to the other two. He bets he looks like a cherry tomato. But neither one of the elders seems to notice, moving beyond the casual flirting as if it didn’t happen. But Jeonghan’s voice still lingers in Joshua’s mind, maybe it’s the way Jeonghan said it like that compliment is directed at Joshua rather than his skills. His eyes wander from the blond for a moment, hearing the front door of the cafe open; that usual annoying bell tinkering across the quiet restaurant. There’s a lot of clomping down the tile floor, with an oddly familiar voice echoing through the dead air. 

“Have you seen my uncle? He looks like… uh… has long hair like a princess!” 

“You little brat,” Jeonghan mutters, grinding his teeth in annoyance. “Don’t tell random people that!”

The young student whips over, dark hair falling over his face as he narrows his gaze towards the back corner. “Nevermind, found him. Thank you, auntie!” He waves at the waitress, scurrying towards the back corner and sticks out his hand. “Are you having a birthday party?” Kids say the darndest things, don’t they? The mock scowl on the blond’s face becomes more prominent as the second-grader introduces himself to Joshua, sticking out his hand and grinning from ear to ear. 

“Oh,” Joshua says, grasping the kid’s hand. It’s smaller than his own but much warmer, like electricity is flowing through in waves. Joshua’s head begins to pound, like someone from the inside is trying to tear their way out. A painful jab into the soft tissue of his brain - one that slowly rips the muscle apart at every tendon. He winces when the youngin lets go of his hand as if his brain is splitting into two, a large divide drawing down the middle, scarring him. 

“Mister,” the boy says. “You know my uncle?” 

“I just met him.” 

“He’s sparkly, isn’t he? Hi Uncle Cheol!” Within an instant the youngin turns his attention to the oldest at the table, waving frantically at the detective. 

“What are you doing here Channie?” Seungcheol asks, nursing his fourth cup of coffee (thankfully decaf this time). “Why aren’t the others with you? Did you walk here all by yourself?” He wonders just how long they’ve been sitting at this restaurant chatting. 

“It’s half day at school, I’m going to arcade, get high score! And Minhyun taked me here.” the boy - Channie it seems like - says, puffing out his chest a little. If Joshua didn’t have such a horrible migraine, he’d think it’s adorable he has such confidence within himself to make such a statement in such a manner, perhaps because he felt like a big boy now. But only being six and hitting the arcade by himself (with partial supervision) isn’t a particularly good idea, even if Joshua isn’t really sure as to why. But his enthusiasm is a trait Joshua wishes he had when talking to new people in general. “And I think the others are still at school?”

“Ah, that’s right, they shouldn’t be out for another hour at least,” Seungcheol points out after checking the time on his watch. “But you shouldn’t be walking around by yourself, where’s the guy who looks after him?” Seungcheol’s words are directed at Jeonghan who is already sending a strongly worded text to  _ the guy who looks after _ Chan. “It’s dangerous for a tiny thing like you.”

“Is okay! I’m big boy now and no one asks,” the boy declares, prompting Jeonghan to leave several angry emojis in his finished text. 

**Me**

_ Aaron, where are you!? _

_ Chan just showed up at Network Love all by himself. _

_ I don’t pay you to slack off! _

🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

Aaron Kwak, the owner of the daycare Chan goes to after school, had agreed at the start of the semester that he would look after Chan specifically if Jeonghan paid him the extra cash. Why he isn’t with him now is what Jeonghan wants to know. 

**Aaron**

_ Isn’t he still at school? _

_ Why are you yelling at me!? _

😭😭😭😭😭

**Me**

_ He said it was a half-day at school today. _

_ And that Minhyun “taked”him here! _

**Aaron**

_ * took _

_ No, it’s not? _

_ Last I checked it’s not? _

**Me**

_ **taked. He’s only 6 remember! _

_ Someone’s lying! _

**Aaron**

_ Well, I can assure you it ain’t me. _

_ PLEASE DON’T FIRE ME _

😭😭😭😭

Jeonghna frowns at the reply and looks towards his nephew happily retelling an embarrassing story of his uncle.  _ Why would he lie to me? Chan never lies… right? _ He’s always taught Chan to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. So what happened? His eyes pan to Seungcheol who’s giggling along with Joshua as Chan proceeds to tell another embarrassing story. 

“Okay, enough!” Jeonghan declares. “Don’t forget I have loads of embarrassing stories from when you were two that I can tell when you’re not around.”

“You don’t!” Chan frowns at him. 

“I have pictures to prove them, too,” Jeonghan simply smirks, enjoying the power. He giggles when his nephew steps over to hit him but not too hard. He takes this chance to snake his arm around the boy and pulls him into a loving hug, holding him until he complains that he can’t breathe.

Seungcheol can’t help but give a scolding look to Jeonghan who simply gives a sheepish smile. He’s sure that scolding is about not having more control over Chan’s supervision but as long as the kid is safe and happy, that’s what matters most, right? Chan knows to stay away from strangers, to run from strangers, and to scream if a stranger grabs him. Luckily, the child hasn’t had any incidents that required him to do those three things yet. Definitely not the best parenting lesson to take from but who could blame Jeonghan? He’s not equipped to take care of a kid at his age - he’s supposed to be the uncle that spoils his nephew rotten. 

“But I’m going to beat high score this time! Need money to do play, Uncle Hannie? Can I have money? Lots of it, please?”

Jeonghan, on the other hand, nearly spits out his coffee in shock. He glares when Channie shouts “Gross!" before grabbing a tissue and aggressively wiping his lips. 

“You’re, like, a fetus,” Jeonghan says, dismissively waving it off. “Why do you need so much for the arcade!?” 

“Uncle Hannie, you know the arcade eat lots of money because its hungry. I’m going to need lots if they eats my money.”

“Tch, I wish I had the time to play lots of games in the arcade too.” 

“Jealous?” Joshua watches the friendly bickering between uncle and nephew. There’s an underlying fondness in their words and actions, something Joshua wishes he has. There seems to be a distance between him and the trio in front of him as the two adults begin teasing and doting the young kid after he expresses his desire to be the very best, like no one ever was. A small smile pips at the corner of the youngest man’s lips, distracting him from the growing headache. 

“You  _ so  _ embarrassing, Uncle Hannie,” Channie complains, rolling his eyes in the process. Much to Jeonghan’s annoyance. 

“Oh come  _ on _ ! Don’t be like that!” Jeonghan whines, ruffling the boy’s black hair, to which the boy smacks his hand away. He then reaches over and pinches his nephew’s cheeks, pulling on it with a laugh while the boy groans in response.

“Uncle Cheol, please help Channie, please!?” Channie pleads while trying to get Jeonghan to stop poking and messing with him. Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head, a silent indication that the kid is on his own. Channie groans, staring up at the ceiling as if praying to a divine deity for mercy. “Someone put me out of misery already!” 

Suddenly, the headache disappears as well as the smile on Joshua’s lips. His eyes glaze over, giving the trio a blank expression as if Joshua isn’t there anymore. His mind can barely process the words and the faces of the people in front of him. Like they’re strangers to him. 

“ _ I can arrange that. _ ” 

“Huh?” Seungcheol asks as Jeonghan demands where on earth did Chan learn such a phrase, to which the little boy throws his teenager friends under the bus (particularly name dropping JiWoo). The detective eyes Joshua. His eyes narrow a bit, seeing a bit of grey peek through Joshua’s soft brown eyes.  _ Was the grey always there? _ “Joshua, did you say something?” Then, in a blink of an eye, the soft brown returns with no indication of grey. 

“What?” Joshua says, tilting his head, confusion sets in. “I didn’t say anything.” Seungcheol stares, not entirely convinced by the flimsy excuse, only letting it go when Chan waves goodbye at Seungcheol and Joshua, skipping through the restaurant. Jeonghan hangs his head in defeat. 

“You really gave him the money?” Seungcheol asks, grinning behind his coffee cup. 

“Yes, I did,” Jeonghan replies, solemnly. He lets out a sigh before giving Joshua a mischievous grin. “Will you comfort me?” 

“No thank you,” Joshua says, smiling politely. 

“Aww.” Jeonghan pouts, his voice suddenly becoming alluring, trying to change Joshua’s mind; but it’s like there’s a mental block between him and the barista’s mind. Suddenly, the thing that makes his voice so appealing snaps causing his power to whip back, slapping him in the face. He winces, nursing his mind with his hand. Seungcheol lowers his coffee mug, eyebrow rising in concern as if telepathically asking the blond if he’s okay. 

‘I’m fine,’ Jeonghan mouths, waving it off. But something nags at the back of his mind as he sips his tea. A message of confusion filters through his mind;  _ why didn’t it work? _ The power he has had for twenty years should work with everyone.  _ So, why? _

“Excuse me for a moment,” Joshua says, standing up just as the food arrives. “I’m just going to head towards the bathroom.” The two eldest nod, smiling as the youngest of the three disappear down the hall. 

The moment the barista is out of earshot, Jeonghan whips his head towards his friend; eyes frantic. “My powers didn’t work on him. Like, at all. Is he a power user?” 

Seungcheol blinks, placing his cup down on the table. “No. Not that I know of.” But there’s something about the way the older man looks doesn’t sit well with the blond - yet Jeonghan doesn’t press the issue further. Maybe he’s going crazy, who knows? Twenty-six is when most people start losing their minds. 

“Then,  _ why didn’t it work _ ?” The detective’s mouth goes dry; unable to provide an answer. He swallows, wondering if there’s a power that cancels out all other powers. 

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just a fluke. I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Seungcheol finally answers, staring straight ahead. A vision of someone surrounded by smoke appears in his mind, red lights and massive flames flare around the person. Just as fast as the vision appears it disappears; leaving Seungcheol wondering what on earth he just saw and how it’s going to impact them all later on. 

* * *

Just before Chan is about to leave the restaurant, he can’t help but notice a bunch of familiar faces waiting in line at the ordering station. He heads over to them and they nearly jump out of their skins from his ungodly loud voice. 

“Hi guys!” He smiles when they turn to see little Chan standing there, each one looking shocked or horrified. “Is it half day at your school too?” the boy asks comfortably in his mother tongue because it’s easier for him outside of school.

“Uh...” The trio looks at each other, silently debating on what to tell him. It’s not a secret that the three of them hate P.E. but sometimes it’s better Chan doesn’t get influenced by their devious ways. Thank god for Chan’s six-year-old attention span, as he instantly forgets his question and turns directly to the tall boy with pretty hair. 

“Who this?” He points at Kai, broken English coming through by accident.

“JiWoo’s new boyfriend,” Seungkwan snickers, thinking he can get away by teasing the guy in another language but the taller simply looks at him. 

“Bold of you to think I don’t speak Korean,” Kai deadpans in flawlessly fluent Korean, earning a laugh from the others when Seungkwan’s mouth drops. There’s a lot they don’t know about the drummer and it shows.

“So he is?” Chan asks, turning to JiWoo for confirmation.

“Kai is my friend who is a boy, yes, my boy-friend.” She glares at Seungkwan, her expression softens when she turns to Kai and gestures to Chan. “Kai, this is Chan, we talked about him earlier, remember?” Vernon had asked if they were going to replace Chan with Kai for obvious reasons, Chan is too young for their small group of troublemakers, they love him, don’t get them wrong but sometimes it’s best the little boy isn’t influenced by their potty mouths. 

“Do they say bad things about me?” Chan pouts up to Kai who shakes his head quietly. “Good! We should go to arcade? I gots money from Uncle Han!” 

“Really? But what are you doing here alone? I thought we were picking you up later?” Seungkwan asks.

“Uncle Han and Uncle Cheol are here with new friend, Mr. Shua.” The boy avoids answering the question regarding why he’s out of school so early.

“What?!” Both JiWoo and Seungkwan blurt out and start looking around for the two aforementioned adults.

“What’s wrong?” Kai asks Vernon, who’s leaning on his shoulder, about to pass out while standing up (‘cause that’s what ‘best friends’ are for, right?). Before Vernon could answer, they hear an older man calling out to them in Korean, his tone full of disappointment. It takes a moment for Kai to understand what’s going on. They’re getting scolded for ditching school. 

A broad looking male with dark brown hair beckons them to their table in the back so they could talk more in private. Hanging their heads, the group of teenagers heads back there as Chan innocently waits at the front of the restaurant. 

There, as his friends get a lecture from the man who looks like he fights bears in his free time, Kai stands by quietly, nervous. He fiddles with his thumbs as pity gnaws at his belly as he keeps his mouth shut. It’s very clear to the student that the two adults sitting at the booth know the trio on a personal level, which makes the situation much worse for the three. He thinks about what he promised them earlier and he holds his hand up. 

“Ahjussi, please don’t be angry with them, ditching was my idea,” he says, his voice and body trembling a bit as he rationalizes with himself. Don’t make any indication that he’s fibbing or else the entire operation will explode in Kai’s face. The man eyes him, his soft look digging their way into Kai’s soul and for a moment he thinks he’s experiencing a panic attack. Does he know that the student is lying? Is the man a mind-reader?

“Is this true?” The other man - a blond man wearing a fashionable suit - asks, eyeing the other three. The group hesitates to agree but eventually does. “What’s your name kid?” Kai stands there for a few seconds, looking dumbfounded. Who is this stranger and who does he think he is asking for Kai’s name like that? (Suddenly, the mere thought of Kai’s father coming out of nowhere, smacking his head and forcing him to apologize on his hands and knees in front of this good looking man for his son being rude pans out in his head). To save him from that embarrassment, Kai bites the bullet and bows his head. 

“Kai Huening,” he answers nervously, the trio figures one of the men is going to call his father to let him know about this but it’s clear to them that Kai would rather it be this way than the others getting punished if they had admitted to it being their idea.

Just before the brunet is about to say something (probably something along the lines of heading back to class), a third man returns to the table. His eyes grow wide in shock, obviously surprised to see more young faces. The brunet bites down on his tongue, halting the scoldings for now, allowing the blond to introduce the group of teenagers to the stranger, in English now. One by one, they all shake his hand, smiling politely. 

When Seungkwan goes to shake the older man’s hand - Joshua is his name if Seungkwan recalls correctly - he notices the other trembling slightly. The trembling continues as Joshua’s eyes gloss over. There’s a hollow pit at the bottom of his stomach as he peers into the flickering eyes in front of him but then, Jeonghan leans over and places a gentle hand on Joshua’s shoulder, asking if he’s alright. Joshua snaps out of it and lets go of the teenager as if the man got burned by the kid, apologizing profusely. 

“You kids really should head back to school.” Jeonghan swallows, unsure if his hypnotic voice will work again, or will it bounce back into his face. Luckily, he sees the group of teenagers blink blankly, nodding obediently and begin to head off. It’s a bit odd to see the four of them walking in a straight line behind one another like they were in the military. At least they’re listening to the two adults. As the teenagers exit the scene, someone hurries inside, out of breath. There stands Aaron Kwak with fogged up glasses due to running all the way from his work to Network Love. He doesn’t plan on getting fired from his side job that looks after the CEO of Good To Me Fashions kid nephew. 

“Awh… I wanted to play with them,” Chan pouts at his uncle, knowing full well what just happened. “Oh well, more games for me then! Bye bye!” he says his goodbyes for a second time and heads out shortly after, leaving the three adults behind in a tense, uncomfortable silence. Meanwhile, Aaron hurries after Chan when he notices the kid leaves without him. Is this man invisible to him or something? He manages to catch up and the two of them begin to discuss strategies of succeeding with higher scores this time.

* * *

Conversations are normally easy for Jeonghan; as an extrovert, he thrives off the energy of others. But in the presence of Joshua; all of his words fly out of the window, leaving him scrambling to gather the words back. The youngest comes back (disappearing to get the meals for everyone), sliding into the booth across Jeonghan; a strand of the other’s medium brown coloured hair falls into his face. Jeonghan watches as Joshua’s long fingers brush it behind his pierced ear; a silver cross in his helix and a diamond twinkling under the artificial light. 

“Do you guys mind if I say grace for myself?” he asks, dipping his head down. No one made a noise of disagreement, allowing the youngest to do what he needs. Jeonghan watches as a series of words quickly fall out of his mouth, as if he’s speaking an entirely different language. Before he throws his head back up and flashes a big smile. “I heard that food tastes better when it’s hot.” 

“So,” Jeonghan says, after a bite of cheesy eggs (there’s a fancy name for it, but Jeonghan doesn’t care much for labels like that). “What are you planning to do now?” Joshua pauses, his fork halfway to his rosy lips, his eyes suddenly train themselves on the blond. They’re soulful - as if he’s carefully thinking of his answer, mindfully chewing his words. 

“I’m not sure,” Joshua replies, his voice softening, relaxing in the presence of the blond stranger. “I was thinking about going into music but I think I need more practice.” There’s a soft smile on his face as his mind seems to daydream all the possibilities. 

“That’d be good for you,” Seungcheol inputs, between shoveling pieces of waffles into his mouth. 

“Well, I’m always looking for a secretary if you have great people skills!” Jeonghan jokes, flashing a bright smile; earning himself a shy chuckle from the younger.

“Don’t do it, Joshua.” Seungcheol pauses his intense food shoveling to take a massive gulp of coffee. “Jeonghan is a very strict boss; he’ll work you to the bon—Ow!” The CEO’s sharp elbow rams itself into the muscular side of the detective. He spits out some of his coffee into his mug, the brown liquid dribbling down his chin as he scowls at his best friends. 

“Oops, my hand slipped.” Jeonghan just smiles, shoveling his own breakfast into his mouth as Joshua merely watches; utterly confused. The two eldest stare at each other with a friendly glare, as if electricity is shooting out and sparking when they meet in the middle. It’s a hilarious sight, like watching an old married couple bicker over whose turn it is to pick up the check. 

“So… are you two dating?” Joshua asks, hesitating a bit. There’s a slight feeling of selfishness lingering in his gut, wondering if he’s overstepping the line. A part of him wants Jeonghan to be single, another part of him tells him that if Jeonghan isn’t single, then it’s okay. Joshua isn’t in a rush to find himself a mate; it has never been in the foreground - but going home to a dark, empty apartment presses heavily down on him. It’s lonely sometimes. 

The two eldest stare at each other, not answering Joshua’s question - which causes a gay panic in his gut. Did he step over the line? Did he hit a nerve? Why aren’t they saying anything? 

“That’s disgusting,” they both say at once, both of them breaking out into a wide smile and a joyous laugh. “He’s my best friend, it’s like making out with your brother,” Seungcheol snickers. “Plus Jeonghan cries in bed.” The oldest lets out another yelp when the blond jabs his elbow back into his supposed best friend. 

“It only happened once and I was having an emotional time!” 

“You cry during sex?” Joshua asks, innocently, causing more painful laughter to ensue from Seungcheol. “Here I thought you were a player, I guess the rumors are incorrect. I apologize for that.” Jeonghan severely underestimated the naivety of Joshua - especially when Seungcheol called him up yesterday before his supposed monthly meetup. He could still remember the way Seungcheol’s voice sounded over the phone, giving the CEO a quick rundown of the man he’s meeting. 

“Stupidly naive he is,” Seungcheol said. “Try not to scare him away.” He hung up before Jeonghan could retort. Now, seeing the stupid naivety for himself, he could see why those happened to be the choice of words used. Nonetheless, Joshua provides Jeonghan a source of curiosity, one he’s dying to learn more about. Perhaps it’s the way Jeonghan’s manipulation power didn’t work or perhaps it’s the general demeanor of the younger that piques the blond’s curiosity. Either way, he needs to know more. 

But his opportunity slowly disappears as his confidence in Joshua’s ability to grasp onto any suggestion diminishes. It’s like he doesn’t understand the art of subtly; blissfully ignorant to the flirty undertones of every question he asks. Eventually, he gives up, sitting in the booth in utter silence as Seungcheol rambles about something at his workplace. There’s almost nothing interesting happening in the city, it’s drier than a desert going through a drought. That is till Seungcheol leans in close, his eyes darting back and forth, looking carefully around. 

“So, I shouldn’t be saying this but I’m desperate,” he says, his voice low. “But there’s been a series of serial kidnappings—”

Within a second, Joshua stands up, his eyes narrowing slightly at the word before they soften, a flash of pain rushing through them as he holds onto his head. “I’m sorry…” he says, grabbing his leatherman coat. “But this headache isn’t going away, so I’m going to head out.” He excuses himself, stopping by the cashier before heading out, leaving the two best friends sitting in the booth, stunned. 

The windy cold air slaps Joshua in the face like an angry ex-lover, a feeling of horrendous guilt consumes him and he’s not sure why. When he looks through the glass of the restaurant, the two best friends lean in one another, Seungcheol whispering to Jeonghan while keeping an eye out. Joshua looks in, biting his lower lip before trudging through the oddly cold winds of September. He could feel the weather changing, making his headache worse than it is. As he walks there’s a growing feeling of pain, like ignoring a fractured arm or a broken rib until the pain is unbearable. 

_ Maybe I didn’t get enough sleep _ , he tells himself, shoving his hands into his pockets and lowering his head against the wind. That’s all he needs is some more sleep and maybe, just maybe, the headache will go away by nightfall. 

* * *

There’s a warm inviting feeling of Seungcheol’s home that Jihoon loves and holds so dearly close to him. His heart swells whenever he’s nearing the two-story grey home that has a low hanging roof; one of its kind on a street filled with brightly coloured homes, but he’ll never let Seungcheol know that. He doesn’t want that lovesick idiot to get any stupid ideas (even if it  _ is _ Jihoon that is a lovesick idiot). Swallowing, he heads up the brick walkway, stepping up the concrete stairs, giving the leaf-covered owl statue a nod, the owl greets him with utter silence. But before he could ring the bell, the front door opens; in the background, Jihoon could hear either S.Coups or Woozi screaming about wanting almonds, to which Seungcheol shouts back but his voice is drowned out by the two (or one) cockatoos screaming. 

“Sorry,” Seungcheol says, opening his door wider and gesturing Jihoon to enter. “S.Coups and Woozi are just being… little brats.” Jihoon shrugs, toeing off his shoes, nearly slipping on the tiled floor of the foyer. Down the hallway, in the living room, he could see Seungchol’s pristine beige coloured sofa as well as the immaculate coffee table, lined with Seungkwan’s school books and some of Seungcheol’s case files. On the sofa, Jihoon could see one of the rose coloured birds, holding a baby carrot chunk and carefully chewing on it. While the other one rests on the banister, chirping up a storm. 

“Hey Woozi,” Jihoon says, giving the one on the sofa a nice head scratch. “How have you been?” The bird stops its carrot eating to lean in towards the pink-haired man, fluffing up her feathers in the process. 

“I want hug,” the bird on the banister squawks out, spreading his white coloured wings, flapping them frantically as if he’s about to take off. To someone who barely knows the dynamics of Seungcheol’s two birds, the house seems noisy. But to Jihoon it’s paradise - anything is better than having to listen to WonWoo complain about his non-existent love life to Audrey Hepburn the cactus or listening to Soonyoung encourage his fat little hamster to keep going on the plastic wheel. Two screaming birds are merely another warm entity in the welcoming feeling to Seungcheol’s home. 

“Ignore S.Coups,” Seungcheol says. “He’s been throwing a temper tantrum all day.” As if on cue, the bird screams something suspiciously like ‘Almonds’ out, flapping his wings again. The oldest shoots the bird a glare, telling it mentally to be quiet - as if that has ever worked on his dramatic, attention-craving bird before. Jihoon cracks a rare smile as S.Coups flies over and settles down on the pink boy’s hair, claiming it as his own. He could feel the bird’s hard beak gently combing through his hair, scraping lovingly against his scalp. He takes a seat on the sofa, letting S.Coups’s mate hop onto his head, her talons holding onto the strands as Woozi continues consuming her baby carrot chunk. 

The smell of spices, and the sounds of sizzling meat envelope the home; almost drowning out the music playing on the radio. Jihoon could feel himself sink into the plush, clearly, well-loved sofa; as the edge of the cushions cuddle around him, snuggling the smaller boy. After three sleepless nights (all of which involved trying to get the composition done correctly for his potential supervisor); he’s ready to just pass out. But the shrill scream - presumably from S.Coups - jolts him awake, his heart beating loudly and a flicker of a flame in his fingertips; like a dying lighter trying to spark its final flame. 

“Dino,” Woozi chirps out, rubbing her face in Jihoon’s hair. It takes Jihoon by surprise, unsure of why the bird would do that. He freezes, unsure of what to do when he feels the weight of the two birds lift off of him. 

“Time for dinner,” Seungcheol says, carrying his two noisy cockatoos to their cages in the kitchen. Jihoon leaves the comforting sofa and follows the older; admiring the way Seungcheol is able to make a sleek modern design feel homey. Both birds hop onto the top portion of the cage, close to the window. The curtains are raised, allowing the couple to look out at the beautiful sunset. On the dining table, the younger could see an array of plates, with a cheesy candle in the middle. 

“You went all out for this,” Jihoon says, taking a seat close to the breakfast bar. 

“What do you expect?” Seungcheol takes his seat, closer to the window, giving the music student a bright smile. “It  _ is  _ our fourth year into our engagement; and your final year of school.” 

“It might not be…” Jihoon looks down, picking forlornly at the plate: a mess of slightly burnt steak (still edible, better than anything WonWoo could make) and rice. “Dr. Kim - I mean Wonshik - is wondering if I’m planning to head to graduate school. If so, he’s willing to be to… you know, he’s willing to take me under his wing.” 

“That’s amaz—”

“But, I won’t be out of school until two to three years later.” That revelation stops Seungcheol cold in his tracks, his eyes steadily scanning his fiancé, watching his every move. Jihoon doesn’t look up and continues poking at his food while nibbling on his lower lip, wondering if he’s making the right choice. Would Seungcheol break it off? Seven years is an awfully long time to wait for someone. 

“You should take it,” Seungcheol finally says, closing his eyes. “I know you’re going to take it.” He remembers seeing the vision in his mind while cleaning the dishes; Jihoon accepting Dr. Kim’s offer, heading under his wing for the next three years. He could see his fiancé in a big fancy music studio instead of his dingy studio, directing those big-name musicians that dominate Hollywood at the moment. 

“But what about—”

“I’ll wait.” Jihoon jerks his head up, his metal fork clattering onto the wooden table. The shorter man opens his mouth, about to argue (because Jihoon  _ always  _ likes to argue with Seungcheol - it’s endearing in some way) but the taller holds his hand up, silencing the other. “It’s just another three years; I’ve been waiting eight years for you, what’s three more?” 

Jihoon’s eyes widen, glistening at the edges as he furiously wipes at his eyes, glaring at Seungcheol. “You stupid sap! Why are you like this!?” And whatever tension the pink-haired student had in his mind, all his fears; all his worries, melt away like the spring snow when he hears his miracle laugh: boisterous and contagious. 

* * *

Beside him on the bed, Jihoon stirs a bit, groaning as he cracks his eye open. The delicate features Seungcheol loves so much hardens as the older accidentally awakens the younger from the best sleep he had in weeks. 

“What is it?” Jihoon mumbles, rolling over to face Seungcheol. “Is something wrong?” 

“Ah,” Seungcheol says, patting Jihoon’s curled up body. He watches as the pink-haired boy wraps the blanket around him tighter, a rather innocent and angelic look to someone who looks like they could murder you in five seconds. “Don’t worry about it. I just remembered there was something I had to do. Go back to sleep.” He listens as Jihoon mutters something incoherent, pressing his face into the pillow, eyes already closed and drifting off. Seungcheol lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he listens to the house settling; Seungkwan’s bedroom door is already closed. When everyone in the house quiets down, he carefully slips out of bed (being aware not to step on Jihoon and his scattered clothing) before heading down to his office. 

There’s a beauty to his office late at night, especially during the winter when the snow is falling serenely behind closed curtains. Sighing, he rubs his eyes; a vain effort to keep himself more awake. When he deems himself awake enough; he opens up his laptop to a messaging app and taps on the icon of what seems to be a kitten wearing stupid sunglasses. A green dot blinks in front of him as he taps on the contact - opening up the chat. He leans forward, squinting under the bright light and as quickly as he could, types a message. 

**Do you know how I can get in contact with Hakyeon?**

**It’s Seungcheol btw**

There’s no response for a couple of minutes before the person types back. 

**What will be your price?**

_ Fuck this guy _ , Seungcheol thinks, grinding his teeth. He hates talking with Jongdae sometimes even though it’ll be worth it in the end. The young detective just wishes the older CIA agent wasn’t such a condescending asshole whenever it comes to information. He couldn’t be simple like Hongbin (albeit Seungcheol did have to send the older a very old video game he found in a used game store) or easy-going like Yixing (who simply just said ‘yes’ without any questions asked). Sighing, he bites the bullet and types. 

**What do you want?**

**Do you still have any of that Japanese star candy?**

**I want a bag of that**

**Fine.**

**Just get me in contact with Hakyeon**

**I’ll deliver if you do**

With that, Jongdae goes offline, leaving Seungcheol frustrated with the ridiculous demand. Blowing some hair out of his eyes, he opens his email and shoots a cryptic email to Hongbin, asking him for a favour. Like a true night owl, Hongbin instantly emails him back - and like true Hongbin fashion, the email is nothing but strange quotes. Satisfied (once Seungcheol figures out what the fuck the hacker is trying to say), he shuts his laptop down and heads back upstairs. 

Slipping into bed, he feels Jihoon cuddle up to him, his warm skin (heated from the older’s down blanket) pressing against Seungcheol’s cold one. He closes his eyes, sighing happily as the grips of sleep tug him down, swaying him into a sweet lullaby. 


	4. The Ghost of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [The Ghost of You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D66_NiTJSTc) by My Chemical Romance

A call at eight am wakes Mingyu up from his deep slumber, he lifts his head slightly, long limbs flailing as he smacks his numb arm around, looking for his cellphone. Eventually, he finds it (after knocking his alarm clock onto the floor) and blinks sleepily at the LED screen. It’s too early to function properly, especially when Mingyu spent the last week and a bit working the late night shifts. Today is his first day off in a little while and he plans on enjoying it, even if he is planning to sleep the entire day. Grumbling, he answers the call, not bothering in looking closely at the ID. 

“Mingyu speaking,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep. “How can I help you?” A part of him is hoping it’s one of those telemarketers calling to see if he’d like some kind of exercise equipment to strengthen his butt into some buns of steel (hilarious, he knows). Yet, another part of him knows it might just be work asking him to come in since the new guy isn’t stable enough to be left alone until Sungjae comes in at noon. 

“Mingyu, sweetheart!” his lovely stepmother greets, her voice a beautiful comfort to Mingyu’s lonely heart. There’s a part of him that misses the affectionate way she talks to him in Italian. Instantly, he’s awoken by the sweet sound of his stepmother, cradling him in her arms despite the pair being hundreds of miles away. God, does he miss his parents and little sister. “Did I wake you up?” 

“Uh…” Mingyu says, rubbing sleep away from his eyes, switching easily to his second native tongue. “Kinda? I should be getting up anyway.”

“You know what they say, ‘The early bird catches the worm’!” His stepmother chuckles on the other side and his heart clenches painfully. His Italian is rusty from lack of use - it’s been four years since he’s properly spoken it. Besides the few friends he kept in touch with in Naples and the short regular calls to his family, he doesn’t have an opportunity to use it in America. The city he lives in has more Asians than Americans. “Your little sister is supposed to be flying to your city in a month! She’s studying abroad for elementary school, did she tell you that?” 

Mingyu blinks, pulling the phone away and staring at it like it grew a third arm. “What? Mama, what do you mean? Gigi shouldn’t be coming over here… She’s, like, six years old!” 

“Well, Gigi has always been hard-headed,” his stepmother says. “Guess where she learned that from?” The male sighs, burying his face into his pillows and groaning. Ambition has always been a thing in Mingyu’s life, both of his parents had always worked hard to get what they wanted. He supposes that’s where he got his undying dream of becoming the best pastry chef he could possibly be. What he didn’t expect, however, is his younger sister to follow in his footsteps. He left Naples because he wanted a challenge, he wanted to learn the universal language before he couldn’t anymore. Now, Minjee (Gigi’s Korean name) is coming to his city and going to school here. 

“Where is she staying?” Mingyu asks, quietly. His tiny apartment could barely fit three grown men, there’s no way in hell would they be able to fit a six year old girl in, unless he gives up his room and moves into the living room.

“She’s participating in this program,” his stepmother says casually, as if she expected her daughter to suddenly head to America at the ripe age of six. She probably misses her brother a lot. “An exchange program. I think she’s staying with this man and his son.” There're so many red flags popping up in Mingyu’s head, call him paranoid if you want but having a _small six year old girl_ in a home filled with men (complete strangers, might he add), does not put him at ease. He’s not even sure _how_ his parents agreed to such a ludicrous idea. 

“Mama!”

“Don’t worry! Gigi is a big girl and she knows what to do. Plus, the man has a son her age. I’m sure they’ll get along.” 

“That isn’t the point mama!” Mingyu sighs, looking at his ceiling for patience and forgiveness. “I’m just worried. What happens if the people she’s living with are creepy pedophiles and, I don’t know, abuse her?” 

His stepmother scoffs, an arrow stabbing through Mingyu’s heart at his stepmother’s carefree nature. “I met the man. Stayed in America a few months back when you were in Milan with mama Emilia. He is nothing but a gentleman and Gigi and his son get along perfectly fine. Stop your worrying.” The sharp edge of the final word shuts Mingyu up, even though the worrying thoughts continue to swirl dramatically in his mind. He knows he’s overthinking things, but could you blame him? It’s his younger sister for god’s sake, and he’ll be damned if something horrible happens to her. 

“Okay,” Mingyu finally says, eyes looking down at his lap. “If you trust him, then I suppose I should too.” 

“That’s the spirit!” his stepmother jokes, before her voice switches into grave seriousness. “But, in reality, please visit and look after your sister when you can while she’s there. I don’t want her to be part of… You know what, never mind. It was a long time ago. Just promise me you’ll take good care of her.” 

“Okay, I will.” Mingyu’s mind latches onto that one portion of what his stepmother said but doesn’t press the issue. If he knows his stepmother (and he likes to think he does), she wouldn’t tell him regardless. Citing the usual motherly excuses of him being too young, too immature or the situation is merely too grave. Regardless, he drops the subject entirely and tells his stepmother that he loves her and that he’ll talk to her soon. Hanging up has always been the hardest thing to do, but today, it comes easily. 

He blinks sleepily, falling back down on the bed and snuggling under the blanket. A part of him wants to sneak into Minghao’s room and curl up on his bed (lucky bastard having a poor body temperature regulation) but he knows better. Unless he wants to wake up completely bald the next day, he better stay in his bed. A good minute passes by before his morning alarms go off and he flails around in bed a second time before falling off of it with a loud thud. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t have responsibilities. If he could just go back to simpler times when all he did was eat and sleep, to his infant days when someone else would take care of him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

* * *

Joshua supposes it’s rather silly to be excited about getting up for work. As he prepares for the day, another song comes to life in his mind, singing with surprising diligence. The song stays in his mind as the pancake batter he has sitting on the stove begins to cook thoroughly. The smell of cooking blueberries fills the small kitchen as he packs his supposed breakfast food into a small Tupperware container. Kyungsoo doesn’t understand why Joshua would ever bring breakfast foods to eat for lunch but Joshua, himself couldn’t explain it. Perhaps the twenty-four-year-old is strange like that. He slips into his coat, his kiwi designed lunch bag in tow and heads outside into the beautiful, crisp autumn air. The same lyrics still filtering through his head as he strolls down the cobblestone road. 

_I call you baby yeah_

_Baby’s called my happiness yeah_

_Yeah I just want it SIMPLE SIMPLE_

_I want it SIMPLE_

The song refuses to leave his mind when he slips into the empty coffee shop - there’s a line of people already waiting outside in their parked cars. All of them are eager to have some of that delicious, addictive caffeine to fuel them just enough throughout the day. Joshua, always an hour and a half early to his shifts, quietly dons on his apron and gets to work bringing down the chairs. A fresh pot of coffee is already brewing in the background and soon, the Carat Cafe smells like exotic beans. At exactly eight forty-five am, he unlocks the door and flips the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. A flood of grumpy customers files in, leaving Joshua overwhelmed and scrambling for fifteen minutes of his shift until either Seokjin or Seokmin comes in. 

But he wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. 

By nine, Seokjin shuffles in, his large eyes blinking tiredly at the long line of impatient customers - all of whom are waiting for their extremely complicated coffee orders. A row of rose pink cups lines the coffee counter as Joshua dances his way through each order, capping them and slamming the cups on the tabletop. Not a single drop is spilled on the pristine stainless steel vanity. Seokjin mumbles a tired “Good morning” and heads towards his spot behind the counter. It never ceases to amaze Joshua how a very tired and potentially murderous man could do a total one-eighty and turn from grumpy to customer service ready. 

In the midst of the chaos, Junghwan - a part-timer that Joshua rarely sees due to the man’s ever-changing schedule - rushes in and throws himself into the back of the cafe. The smell of loaves wafts through, mixing together with the smell of coffee being brewed every thirty seconds. The morning rush has always been chaotic, insanity to the point of a mental breakdown but nothing like that has ever happened on the job. And as soon as the morning rush arrives, it dissipates, scattering in fragments of stragglers. 

Joshua feels like he can finally breathe for the first time in twenty minutes. It’s hard to believe that such an intense influx of people is contained within a short span of time. Seokjin counts the transactions on the register as all current employees wait with bated breath. The former transaction number on the chalkboard, still holds the title for “busiest day”, that one Monday in December two years ago with a mind-blowing record of seven hundred and thirteen people. 

“Dammit,” Seokjin mutters. “We’re at a hundred and four. At this rate, we’ll never kick that crown down and Jaehwan will be laughing his ass to the bank _again_!” 

“Ah, the life of gambling with the boss,” Junghwan says from the kitchen, poking his head through the window. “I wonder how you regulars handle being twenty dollars poorer every week.” The disgruntled cashier whips around and instantly, the pair begins to argue like _Tom and Jerry_ , all while Joshua ignores them, choosing to wipe down the countertops and tables. 

The little bell chimes, drawing everyone’s attention. 

“Welcome to Carat Cafe!” Joshua shouts from his station, dropping his rag when he hears Jeonghan’s distinct vocals drift through the semi-empty establishment. It doesn’t take very long for his coworkers to pick up on the electrifying, almost innocent chemistry that filters between the two. All of it sounds like a rom-com Joshua used to watch on his days off (he has now switched to romantic dramas). 

“What on earth are you waiting for Joshua?” Seokjin hisses, grabbing the damp rag out of the younger’s hands and shoving him towards the older blond, who is watching all of this happen with an amused smile. Holding out his hand for the younger barista, Jeonghan flashes another lazy smile. 

“Are you alright there soulmate?” he asks, his voice light and teasing. “Looks like you’ve seen an angel.” 

“I-I mean… Is it me or did the cafe get really hot?” Joshua says instead, his cheeks heating up from the simple comment. Maybe the man isn’t even that into him, after all, Joshua is rather awkward. He sometimes (scratch that, all the time) says the wrong thing at the wrong time (like that one time a regular female customer thought he was flirting with her - it took him _days_ to get the smell of iced coffee out of his clothes and hair). Jeonghan lets out an airy laugh at Joshua’s attempt at diverting the subject. 

All while his coworkers slap themselves on the forehead out of sheer embarrassment for their assistant manager. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Joshua says, standing up straight. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I kind of did but like… I just sound like an idiot now. Um… How is your nephew?” 

Jeonghan blinks, his hand holding on longer to Joshua’s. “Pardon?” 

“You introduced him to me the other day at Network Love, right? His name is Chan?” Joshua tilts his head, wondering if his memory is failing him again. But Jeonghan nods, grinning a bit. How cute, he remembers that little brat. “Your little nephew asked for some money to go play at the arcade, I was just wondering if he won any good prizes, that's all.” 

“Oh, he won lots of prizes!” Jeonghan laughs bitterly, muttering something under his breath that sounds like “as if he doesn’t have enough already…” It’s more the pain of trying to sort and arrange the new little plush friends, to display for his kid nephew than Chan obtaining them. As much as the boy loves his toys, he’s horrible at keeping them in their respectful places or off the floor. His poor uncle can still recall the time he tripped on one and nearly smashed his face wide open.

“Oh, that’s good.” There’s a moment of silence before Joshua pipes up again. This time, the words strike another feeling into Jeonghan’s gut - one of fear and interest. Scared of learning more but needing to because the barista in front of him piques his interest. “It’s weird. I still can't help but wonder why the other kids you introduced to me left so… I don't know, like they were mindless zombies? Maybe my memory is failing me and I was just imagining things.” Joshua laughs and says something akin to “As if it doesn’t already” before letting go of Jeonghan’s hand. The warmth from the younger’s hand is replaced by the bitter cold lingering in the air. And as Joshua stutters out something about needing to get started on the day he turns to leave; Jeonghan reaches out and grabs the latter by the arm. 

“Um,” Jeonghan says, his normally calm, collected, and flirty nature drifting out the window. There’s something about Joshua’s cat-like eyes that sends a wave of familiarity down the blond’s spine - as if he has seen the other somewhere before, years ago. “Would you… Would you like to grab lunch with me sometime?” The hesitation and silence that follows is agonizing - as if Jeonghan is being tortured for information (something that thankfully hasn’t happened to him yet). 

Slowly, Joshua’s mouth curls up, forming a kitten-like grin. “I’d love to.” 

Jeonghan nods, telling the latter he’ll call and the second he’s out of sight; he quickly sends a message to Seungcheol - all while being unaware of his missing coffee. 

* * *

Wednesday morning, a week after the phone call with his mothers about his Minjee’s living arrangements, Mingyu is excited to welcome his little sister to her new home in AL-1 City. It's not until he arrives at the airport in Sector A-6 that he notices they haven’t had the chance to speak much since the decision made over a week ago. Somehow his timing was off and she was either at school or asleep by the time he was off work or woke up for the day. It’s been a few months since he got to properly talk to his sister, because he was indeed busy like his stepmother pointed out. But that’s going to change, he’s never going to be too busy for his sister, he’ll make sure of that. 

The excitement forming in his chest is warm and intense, causing AL-1’s weather to suddenly change from cool and overcast to hot and sunny. He can hear a few travelers begin to complain about the ‘bipolar’ weather, causing Mingyu to notice the growing hunger in his stomach. He has a feeling this would happen, so he pulls some snacks out of his bag to munch on while he waits for his sister’s flight to land. He came early, there was no way he would be late in greeting his beloved baby sister, even if it meant waking up at the butt crack of dawn. 

As time passes, his snacks disappear until there’s only a single bag of chips left. _I should save some for Gigi to eat, she’s definitely going to be hungry after such a long flight._ He occupies himself with his phone for a bit, browsing social media and watching some pastry tutorials until he checks the LED screen above, to see his sister’s flight has landed. He was so immersed with the video he was watching about how to make matcha green tea crepe cakes that he didn’t notice the time. He grabs his bag and books it over to pick up his sister, the airline won’t allow her out of the airport without him and he doesn’t want to get another angry call from his mother who he promised he had this all under control. 

You could say he was shocked to see his younger sister dressed like a porcelain gothic lolita doll. He almost doesn’t recognize her until she greets him, telling the airport clerk that he’s her giant clumsy brother (kids say the darndest things, don’t they). Once they’re finished with the pick up process, they start heading out. Mingyu carries her luggage with ease under his right arm while he has a hold of her hand with his left. He glances down at the small girl, resisting the urge to squeal and embarrass her in front of all these people. Because of how stupidly tall he is, the top of her head barely reaches the middle of his thigh, forcing her to hold her arm up to hold onto his hand. _She’s still so small! I can’t!_ He might just cry in the middle of the airport over how adorable his baby sister is, already adapting to her new fashion style (he knows she takes after Mama Emilia).

He dreads the day she hits a growth spurt, but he wonders just how tall she’ll be later on? While Mingyu is full Korean and six foot two inches, his sister is mixed, half Korean and half Italian. He can take a guess and say she stands roughly three feet and seven inches at the moment. Even five foot and four inches is still small next to him. The thought of her growing up still pains him regardless. If only his sister could stay this tiny forever. 

“Gigi, are you hungry?” he asks half way into the walk home. She simply shakes her head with a groan and shields her eyes from the sun. “What’s wrong?” 

“The ball of fire in the sky... it is draining my energy,” she explains, sticking closer to the back of his legs where there’s more shade being casted. Only then did he realize how stark the contrast was between their skin tones; Mingyu’s sun kissed while Gigi’s white as a sheet of paper. A thought occurs to him that they should be careful, she could get a nasty sunburn if she walks in the direct sunlight for too long. “I cannot stand it anymore, brother, please. Let us find shelter until the hellish sun vanishes…”

“I see you take after our Eomma,” Mingyu snickers in reply. “Did you pack a parasol?” She mumbles a yes and he stops to look for it in her luggage. He kneels down, finally at her level, but because of that, there is no more shade to hide in. Gigi whimpers, feeling her skin burn under the harsh light, her black clothes soaking up all the heat, she can feel herself melting. 

“I can no longer walk. I have no energy, brother, I am dying.” She clutches onto his bicep with her small hands, squeezing it with fascination. Her soft monotone voice makes her comment much more hilarious to Mingyu for some reason. She oddly reminds him of a character from an anime he watched a while ago, a little girl who was addicted to ramen and emotionally constipated. 

“Tch, don’t say that, you’re fine,” he replies, opening up the black parasol when he finds it. He pulls forward his bag and picks out a water bottle for her to rehydrate, holding her parasol for her as she takes a moment to recuperate. She takes small sips, squinting at the bright and clear sky. She side eyes him a few times, like she’s expecting something from him. He pouts and starts to get the hint. “Fine,” he sighs and scratches the back of his head. “Tell me something sad.” 

“I have yet to taste a real macaron.” It sounds absurd for that to be possible but when you have a Korean mother who had a hard time parting with her home country cuisine, it makes sense that Gigi hasn't fully been exposed to their stepmother’s Italian cuisine. Almost instantly the sun disappears behind thick black clouds, threatening to rain. The temperature drops several degrees and a smile spreads across the little girl’s face. “Much better.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m going to make you all the macrons you can eat!” Mingyu sniffles, wiping a single tear from his left eye. “Let’s go before it rains.” He packs up her parasol and scoops her up into his right arm, knowing it’ll be faster this way thanks to his long legs, her short legs won’t be able to keep up with him if they continue on foot. 

The dark skies begin to clear by the time they reach his shared apartment, prompting Gigi to curse at the large circular mass of hot plasma and gases, the very thing that provides Earth’s main source of energy and light. She makes the bold claim that she’s melting and the moon would never treat her with such disrespect (whatever that means). He puts her down after opening the door and she runs inside, looking for the darkest corner to sit in and begins to rejuvenate in the darkness. So this is what Mingyu signed up for and he’s not sure if he regrets it now. 

* * *

The moment Minghao takes a step into the fairly busy airport, he hears his name being called through the crowd. _Dear god…_ He blinks, looking around the lobby, trying to find one of his stupid roommates (rather his extremely stupid and tall roommate and his platonic son). _Give me strength._ Groaning, he sees Mingyu standing on a bench, waving what seems to be a pink flag. Minghao pretends he doesn’t see the taller at first, grabbing his massive suitcase and dragging it behind him as he approaches his roommate. 

“I’m embarrassed by you,” Minghao deadpans, hiking his backpack up higher on his shoulders. “Why are you like this?” 

“If I didn’t shout like a moron, how would you be able to find me?” Mingyu asks, jumping down from the bench. His long arms reach out and grab onto Minghao’s suitcase. The shorter male is too tired to argue, his body feeling heavy as he follows his friend to the only car the three own. A cheap two thousand five hundred dollar 2000 black Camaro that came into Seokmin’s possession when he turned eighteen and moved out. Neither Mingyu nor Minghao knows the true story of how their roommate got a car for basically next to nothing and Seokmin doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Mingyu pops the trunk up and shoves the suitcase in while Minghao slips into the front seat. His eyes are feeling heavy as Mingyu gets into the driver’s seat. His body starts to shut down as the baker drives, but Minghao’s brain doesn’t stop registering the new sensations of returning back to midwestern America. Compared to the sweltering heat in Beijing, AL-1 is a blessing. Minghao welcomes the cooler weather of September with open arms. 

The ride from the airport to their shitty apartment that sits on the border of the slums and the wealthy in Sector A-4 is thirty minutes on a good day. The radio plays softly around them as Mingyu hums to the current song playing, one Minghao doesn’t know nor cares about. He’s too tired physically to put any mental energy on remembering a song. The drive home is peaceful, something Minghao definitely misses while staying abroad. 

“Hao, do you want me to carry you up like the princess you are?” Mingyu asks, parking the shared car in their designated parking space. Minghao cracks an annoyed eye open, sitting up despite his pounding headache, and punches Mingyu in the arm. The older (by, like seven months) yelps, grumbling about being bullied and gets out. Minghao leaves him behind with his massive suitcase (all filled with clothes and his photography gear). All the Chinese man wants to do is sleep for a day or two. 

But that plan flies out the window when Minghao opens the front door and he comes face to face with a little girl. The first thing he notices about the kid is her fashion choices. She’s wearing a black lolita style dress, black stockings, and black Mary Jane shoes. She has pouty lips with a tinge of burgundy colour to them against her pale white skin, her sharp and subtle smokey eyes stare back at Minghao, soulless. Her neatly lined eyes narrow at the supposed stranger, her mouth ready to open and let out a massive scream (because, stranger danger). Minghao freezes, unsure of what to do. _Do I run? Did I enter the wrong apartment?_ Slowly, he takes a step back and closes the door. His eyes stare at the silver numbers on the door’s exterior; 208. 

_Who was that?_ He wonders. _Was that a ghost?_ He must be hallucinating, that’s the only logical thing. Why else would there be a strange little girl standing in the middle of his shared apartment like she’s from _The Shining_ , only dressed in black? All she’s missing is her twin and he’s not really up for playing either. He’s forgotten how staying up for twenty-eight hours can cause hallucinations. 

Down the hall, he can hear Mingyu huffing and puffing while dragging his suitcases up the stairs towards the second floor startling the sleep-deprived man. Mingyu stumbles down the hallway, ready to collapse. 

“Why are you just standing in the hallway?” Mingyu asks, pulling out his copy of the apartment key. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” 

“I think I did…” Minghao mutters, rubbing his tired eyes once more. “Our apartment doesn’t have a little goth girl in it, does it?” Mingyu blinks before laughing, unlocking the already unlocked apartment door (doesn’t even notice it was already unlocked but Minghao doesn’t say a word) and drags the suitcase inside. Minghao follows and freezes when he sees the little girl again standing in the same spot as before, she glares at him, her little arms crossing over her chest with elegance. 

“This is my little sister Gigi,” Mingyu says, walking right by her. “She’s studying abroad for a little while So I convinced my parents to let her stay with us. I just picked her up yesterday from the airport, too bad you guys didn’t arrive on the same flight otherwise I wouldn’t have had to make two separate trips.”

“Not my problem,” Minghao says with a small shrug. The offended look on Mingyu’s face is priceless and if Minghao wasn’t so tired, he’d probably take about thirty pictures to use as blackmail. 

“Mingyu, who is this?” the little girl asks, a heavy foreign accent coating her words. An accent thicker than Minghao’s, he strains to understand her. Mingyu instantly replies in a language Minghao doesn’t know, it sounds like Spanish but he isn’t sure. He’s too exhausted to say anything other than a small greeting to the little goth girl before grumbling and makes his way towards the hallway, he grabs his suitcase and heads towards his bedroom. Dropping his items by his door, he lets out a long sigh - he’s ready to crash into bed. His body feels like jello as he yanks his sticky clothes off and changes into his sleepwear. He gracefully falls into his bed and pulls his blankets over himself completely. 

Sleep grabs him by the hand, gently leading him down into a deep slumber. His heart grips tightly as he falls into a state where memories and dreams blend together. It’s silly for him to get his hopes up when he stepped off the plane that fateful day in July. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, seeing that one person while back at home shouldn’t have been possible. Not when he shares the city with twenty-one point five million people. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack, near impossible.

Sighing, Minghao buries his face into his fluffy pillow, one of the few luxuries he got as a child. His heart still tightens at his fleeting dream, a young romance that he shared with someone a few summers ago. That person probably has forgotten about him by now, but Minghao can’t, no matter how hard he tries. He can still remember the bright smile that lit up that night sky; the sense of home and security that the older someone brought with them, enveloping Minghao with what he might have believed as true love, despite the short time spent together. Eventually, his memories begin to fade and dreams take over, caressing Minghao’s jaw like a long lost lover. 

* * *

In order to be a good student, it is important to show up to every class so you don’t miss anything. But no one said Seungkwan Boo or Vernon Chwe were remotely close to being ‘good students’. In fact, they had decided - at the last minute, kind of - to just ditch their remaining classes. And in doing so, the older boy dragged the younger boy back to his house for a ‘movie date’ (even though there wouldn’t be much movies _to_ be watching). Seungkwan stands in the kitchen, a bitter taste lingering in the back of his mouth as he sends off a series of vague messages to his best friend, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset with him. 

If he knows JiWoo well enough, he knows she will be upset with him for not telling her but he knows how she gets with any relationship talk. Sometimes it’s better to leave things unsaid. Sighing and pocketing his phone, Seungkwan returns to his room with two water bottles in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. He kicks the door shut and approaches Vernon who is lying on his bed facing the ceiling and struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“You can sleep if you want to, don’t let me keep you up,” Seungkwan assures the poor insomniac while setting the two waters down on his nightstand and gently sitting on his bed, crossing his legs and placing the bag of popcorn in his lap. He munches on a few pieces when Vernon turns his sleepy head over to look at him. “We can watch the movie another time, don’t worry.” He continues to stuff his mouth with the popcorn because who would resist fresh popcorn?

“But…” Vernon’s tired voice is enough to even make Seungkwan tired. Exhaustion; it’s contagious. 

“You said it was going to rain later, it hasn’t,” Seungkwan brings up while looking out his bedroom window. “It doesn’t even look like it will, where do you get your weather forecasts from?”

“I said it might,” Vernon quietly chuckles. “Never said it will.” He gives Seungkwan a look and it takes a moment for the older to realize it.

“You sneaky little—” He snickers and tosses a few pieces of popcorn at him. 

“I have no regrets.” Vernon laughs and shifts to sit up, picking up the thrown popcorn pieces and eating them. 

“You know, you can always come over whenever you want right? You don’t need to trick me into inviting you over.” Seungkwan pouts and scoots closer to his side to share the bag of popcorn. “I really care about you, and so does Seungcheol… I just don’t understand why you don’t just move into the guest room?” 

“Not that again.” Vernon sighs, his mood deflating. “You know I don’t like talking about this.” 

“I know, but… I get worried when it does actually rain and you’re not here. It’ll be winter soon… you can’t stay out in the cold like that.” There’s a tense silence that fills the room. Vernon doesn’t say anything while Seungkwan sighs in defeat. It’s no use in arguing about it again. After a few minutes, Vernon turns on his side, away from Seungkwan, which honestly feels like a blow to his heart. He didn’t mean to upset him like that, especially right before he’s about to pass out. He stops eating, too guilty to even think about food. He mentally curses at himself for ruining a perfectly good moment between them. 

Why did he have to bring up Vernon’s living arrangements like that? He knows it’s not something they like talking about, but he’s worried now that the seasons will be changing shortly. Winter is coming soon and the last thing Seungkwan wants is a Vernon popsicle. 

Seungkwan decides to give Vernon some space and is about to get up when he hears Vernon call his name. He responds with a quiet yes.

“I’ll think about it,” Vernon simply says before yawning. 

“Okay.” Seungkwan smiles. “Get some rest, I’ll be downstairs,”

“No.” Vernon turns over to face him this time. “Stay with me a little longer? Please?” He reaches out for the older, implying he wants to be cuddled. “I don’t want to have another bad dream again.” 

“Okay, I’ll stay with you,” Seungkwan says to him and lies down before pulling him close against his chest. “Always.” 

* * *

The best way to wake up in the afternoon, according to Seokmin Lee, is to suffer a minor heart attack due to the sound of glass shattering outside. At least that's what he thinks anyway (that’s a lie, he hates it but he feels like some comedy is needed). Panic starts to arise as two realizations begin to set in: one, Mingyu should be at work, and two, Minghao isn’t home yet. So, logically, he’s supposed to be home alone right now. If that’s the case, who the hell is smashing glass in the kitchen? Is it his newest ghost friend? _Wait, Seokmin, ghosts don’t exist._ He doesn’t believe in the paranormal (Ted and Jolene are offended). 

All of this happens within his mind as he stares into the abyss that is the top corner of his bedroom. There’s a (potential) murderer or robber or both in his apartment and here he is questioning his life's existence. There have been many times since moving into the ghetto that he pictured the day a break-in would happen. In the several scenarios his brain could possibly imagine none of them included him being present, stuck in bed sleeping while it all goes down. In fact, when the robbery does happen - since, let’s be real here, Seokmin lives in the shadiest part of the city; a break-in is going to happen sooner or later - he just prays he isn’t home. 

He spends a good two minutes internally debating whether or not he should investigate like the complete morons you see in the horror films (Next thing you know he’s going to ask “who’s there” and possibly tell them his whole life story over a cup of coffee or some shit). Is he ready to die first in this real-life horror film? Then again, if he isn’t a moron and merely stays in his room, there’s a good chance the burglars won’t bother raiding the entire apartment. Because again, let’s face it, it isn’t like they have a lot of valuable things anyway, so they’ll probably give up once they notice. 

Once he hears Minghao’s door creak open a sense of protectiveness as the oldest roommate sparks to life deep down inside, causing him to leap out of bed, prepared to defend his home. When he pokes his head out into the hallway, his jaw drops at the sight of a disheveled Minghao blearily staring back at him. 

It takes a moment for Seokmin to gather his words. “What? You’re home? Since when?” The older steps out into the hallway, a look of confusion plastered across his face. _How long was I sleeping?_

“I arrived this morning,” Minghao mumbles in a tone laced with sleep. He lets out a loud yawn before squinting down the hallway. “That wasn’t you who made that sound?” 

“No, it wasn’t me. I’ve been in my room this whole time.” Seokmin reluctantly admits, pushing aside the disappointing thoughts of another day wasted in bed. He frowns and follows his roommate’s gaze down the hallway towards the front door that appears locked and secure. He lowers his voice and asks if he thinks someone broke in. Minghao simply shakes his head, commenting it’s impossible, not with the heavy-duty lock he had installed. If anyone knows what it’s like for their home to be broken into, it’s Minghao - being prepared for anything is how the youngest member of this trio likes to live. But then, that begs the question: what, or better yet, who made that sound? Aliens? Ghosts? Werewolves? A very lost and demented Mr. Oliver? 

Suddenly, they hear one of the cupboards smack against another, throwing the two adult men into high alert. Someone is in the kitchen and it doesn’t sound good. Seokmin could hear panic alarms ringing in his head - each one louder than the rest. God, if he wasn’t such a fuck up then maybe they could find somewhere better than this shitty place. 

“Mingyu?” Minghao calls out, taking a tentative step out. “Did you forget something again?” Seokmin takes a peek at his roommate, wondering how Minghao could look so calm and collected in this situation (even if he ignores the way Minghao’s hand is on his nunchucks tucked in the waistband of his pyjamas backside). When there’s no answer, the pair very quietly and slowly inch towards the kitchen. There sits a little girl on the counter with a bag of chips in her hands, staring down at the mess she caused. Her short legs dangle haphazardly over the spray of broken glass and, as if on cue on a movie set, she looks up at them. She has no emotions on her face - wiped entirely blank - sending chills up the two adults’ spines. Is this what Danny felt when he saw those twins in _The Shining_? 

“I am sorry,” she says innocently. “I was hungry and…” Her grip tightens on the bag of chips as she attempts to explain the entire situation in broken English. Her voice wavers as she retells the story but Seokmin’s keen ears pick out coherent words through her sniffles. Supposedly, when she climbed up onto the counter, she was careful about the glass cup that was left by the sink, but while searching for something to eat, her foot knocked it over onto the ground, shattering it. She lowers her soulless eyes, bottom lip quivering. Seokmin swallows, words catching in the back of his throat.

“It’s okay,” Minghao says, rubbing his tired eyes before walking into the kitchen. “Can you get the dustpan, Seok?” He reaches out for the little girl and gently lifts her off the counter, setting her down on a stool. 

“Sure.” Seokmin heads over to the pantry closet while being mindful of the glass. He takes another look at the little girl, a million questions running through his head. He grabs the dustpan (somehow balanced on top of a bag of flour) and shoves it into Minghao’s hands all while staring at the girl. 

“Oh, right. This is Mingyu’s sister.” Minghao gestures with the dustpan before sweeping up the glass. “She’s studying abroad and he’s looking after her.” The little girl does a small wave at Seokmin in greeting. He gives an uncertain wave back, still trying to process the situation. Minghao’s exhausted voice forcefully pulls him out of his thoughts. “Your brother said something earlier before leaving, right? That he prepped some lunches or something?” Seokmin could hear the sound of glass being thrown into the trash before the fridge opens. His own eyes never leave the girl’s as he keeps an ear out for the sound of the fridge closing. But that doesn’t happen. 

Instead, Seokmin turns around to see Minghao leaning against the appliance, head nodding off. He walks over and taps the younger on the shoulder, effectively scaring the living shit out of him. Blinking blearily, Minghao rubs his eyes and says, “Please, Seokmin, I beg of you, can you just heat up her lunch? I can’t keep my eyes open any longer…” 

“Alright. Get some rest before you fall face-first into the vanilla cake, ” Seokmin contends, helping Minghao out of the kitchen and back to his room safely. The Chinese male doesn’t have the energy to argue and frankly, neither does Seokmin. He’d rather just do as told and get it over with. It’s not that he doesn’t like children, he’s just nervous. It’s going to be very awkward, but all he has to do is heat up her food and make sure she eats, simple. He returns to the kitchen, seeing her still seated at the very high island chair. She’s staring down at the ground, frowning - as if terrified of coming down. 

Seokmin does what any good babysitter does and carries her down. She’s light in his hand and he can’t help but think of her as a creepy porcelain doll. Stiff, lifeless, and possibly very fragile (As well as possessed by some demon). He then takes the bag of chips from her hold knowing she has a full lunch waiting for her to eat, once he heats it up that is. 

He pauses when he feels a tug on the hem of his shirt and looks down to see her looking up at him with a frown when she has his attention she makes a grabbing motion towards the bag of chips he put away. A million and one questions whirl through his head. 

Does he enable bad eating habits, or does he risk tension between him and her as the evil man who wouldn’t let her eat what she wanted? Is it worth Mingyu nagging him about corrupting his younger sister? Or is it worth the peace of mind knowing that this little girl won’t try to murder him in his sleep later, holding this grudge against him for the rest of the eternity? But the answer is quite simple once he calms down enough to think logically. He quickly hands her the bag of chips before heating up her food. 

When he’s done, he sets up the table for her to eat. Once she’s seated, he tells her to be careful when eating, not to burn herself or choke on the food because he’s going back to his room. He’s just exhausted from last night and his lack of sleep. All he wants to do at this very moment is sleep (or rather lay in bed until nightfall). 

“You are not going to eat?” she asks before he can turn around. “You should eat.” He stands there, thinking up a way to tell her why he doesn’t feel like eating other than outright saying he’s possibly depressed. He’s too stressed to eat, when his mind is full of toxic thoughts about how much of a fuck up he is, missing work, missing texts and calls simply because he just does not have the energy to be _normal_ some days. 

What’s the point of eating when simply existing hurts? Nothing can soothe that pain, food never helps in his case so he just stopped— 

“I will heat it up for you,” she says while shifting in her seat to hop down.

“No, that’s okay!” he blurts out, stopping her from leaving her seat. “I’m just not that hungry, that’s all. Go ahead and eat, you need it more than I do!” 

“Do I really?” She stares up at him, he can see the few chip crumbs leftover on the corner of her lip, a spitting image of her older brother and it almost makes him laugh. _Wait..._ he thinks about it for a moment and weighs his options. She could possibly nag him about it or tell Mingyu about this later on - thus making him nag her. Even if he doesn’t think it’s worth it, at least for the little girl, he should try. So he returns to the kitchen to heat up his own lunch and joins her at the table. 

Today just seems different now, he’s not sure why, but it is. Perhaps it’s the return of Minghao and the new addition to the home, that being Mingyu’s little sister. When he thinks about it, she probably knows nothing about him. Mingyu probably didn’t tell her anything, why would he if she’s so young? She won’t understand, right? There’s something about it that makes him feel less judged, less anxious. He doesn’t have to say a thing, does he? He doesn’t need to explain himself to her and she doesn’t seem to pry about it either. They eat in comfortable silence with Seokmin observing her. 

When lunch is over, he cleans up after them, washing the dishes and leaving them in the dish rack to dry. When he turns around to leave the kitchen, he catches the little girl standing there, staring. It’s a little unnerving until she points to the cupboard. This time he has the courage to tell her no when she asks for more chips. He supposes she has a similar appetite as her older brother too, perhaps it runs in the family? He’s grateful that she doesn’t argue with him because she could have. He knows how some kids can be persistent and throw a tantrum if they don’t get what they want. Some kids are a nightmare to look after, but Mingyu’s sister seems to be the opposite (even though she looks like something in his nightmares). 

“My name is Minjee but please call me Gigi,” she says with a hint of a smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Gigi, I’m Seokmin.” He cracks a smile. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel the need to return to his room and sleep the rest of the day. Instead, he keeps Gigi company in the living room. They watch TV together in comfortable silence and for once Seokmin feels relaxed, enjoying the present moment. 

* * *

Seungcheol, despite his pounding headache and sore neck muscles from being constantly hunched over working on cold case files, still makes it a habit to cook Seungkwan something to eat. After all, his father did the same with him whenever he came home. So, imagine Seungcheol’s surprise - the second he walks through the front door - when he sees dinner already prepared and sitting out on the dining room table. Granted, it’s simply take-out from the local Korean restaurant nearby, since (and these are Seungkwan’s own words) it’s better to have a kitchen still standing when Seungcheol returns. However, Seungcheol couldn’t help but feel a bit moved by the gesture. Hell, he’s pretty sure some tears are beginning to prick at the corner of his eyes. 

“Oh, gross,” Seungkwan says from his spot at the table, his phone out and his meal half-finished in front of him. “If you cry, then I’ll cry and soon we’ll just be a big crying mess.” 

“I’ll try not to embarrass you so much in front of Vernon,” Seungcheol deadpans as he makes his way towards the kitchen. As he does, he hears some soft snoring emitting from the living room as well as flickering TV channels. He pokes his head in and spots Vernon snoozing and sprawled out on the couch. Above, the television continues to flip through two channels: one playing a romantic comedy movie (something Seungkwan would truly enjoy) and the other playing something more sport orientated. A smirk grows on the detective’s face; out of all the spirits this kid could’ve befriended, he chooses the ones who enjoy fighting over the remote. Man, if Siwon was here at this very moment, he would have a legit heart attack from the supernatural happenings in Seungcheol’s home.

“Is Vernon staying the night?” Seungcheol asks quietly, as he slips into his own seat at the table. There’s a styrofoam container already sitting there in front of him and the heavenly smell causes his stomach to growl. That’s right, he skipped lunch today in order to follow a lead - and by god he’s famished. 

“I want him to,” Seungkwan answers, poking around at his food. “It’s been pretty cold the last few nights.”

“It has.” The older nods. “You think it has anything to do with climate change?” The teenager simply shrugs, still poking at his food. This worries Seungcheol who is the dutiful guardian of the child that always has something to say. Silence and food poking is definitely not something within Seungkwan’s character. “Any progress on getting him to change his mind about living here?” He can see Seungkwan frown, indicating there hasn’t been much progress to report on. 

“Well, he said he’d think about it… but he always says that whenever I bring it up.”

“I can understand if he feels like it’s a burden, but I’m sure he’ll come around in time.” Seungcheol always makes sure to look on the bright side, but he does prepare for the worst. Realistic, if he says so himself. However, being realistic doesn’t mean he could voice those negative thoughts in front of Seungkwan who doesn’t need that kind of stress in his life. So, he does the next best thing: Seungcheol worries about him like a mother would her first born baby. 

He worries about how Seungkwan’s been doing now that he’s a lot older? Have the memories gotten any easier for him since they met? Seungcheol can still remember the large tear-filled eyes Seungkwan sported for years after the murder of Seungkwan’s parents. 

Suddenly a vision hits him: he can see Seungkwan sitting before him quietly as the TV in the other room picks up in volume. In the midst of the fighting between two spirits, the channel somehow switches to a crime show, the name of the show blurry no matter how hard he tries to squint. The scene on the screen is gruesome; a woman lies dead with her legs spread open, her throat slashed along with a mess of muscles and tendons towards her lower half. The nonchalant dialogue - speaking as if the murder of a transgender woman is a normal thing - and the image on the screen is enough to trigger a panic attack within Seungkwan. The windows around them start to vibrate as— 

Seungcheol abruptly gets up and hurries over to snatch the remote control, pulling the batteries out. He lets out a quiet sigh. _That was close._

But he gets a feeling,like something toxic settling at the bottom of his stomach that whoever, or more appropriately whatever, messed with the TV in his vision isn’t one of Vernon’s ghost friends. It feels like something much more evil. He makes his way over to unplug the TV and, just to be safe, whispers a small protection prayer Siwon taught him years ago. _Don’t let him have that horrible nightmare again, please._

“Cheol?” Seungkwan’s worried voice diverts his attention, forcing him to face the seventeen-year-old. His mouth stretches out into a gummy smile, a false smile just to hide his own anxiety. “Something wrong? Why did you unplug the TV?” 

“Ah… I just…” _Shit, what’s a good excuse that won’t draw suspicion?_ His eyes quickly dart around the room until they land on the still sleeping Vernon. “I just didn’t want to risk Vernon waking up, that’s all,” he says, reaching out to ruffle the other’s hair a bit. Then, Seungcheol’s hand slides down the side of Seungkwan’s head before patting him affectionately on his cheek. Seungkwan pouts at the sudden display of brotherly affection. For some reason, he always gets embarrassed whenever the elder does it. Like, who does Seungcheol think he is? Jeonghan who smothers poor Chan with his obnoxious love?

“So… Are we just going to leave him on the couch?” Surely, whatever position Vernon is in isn’t comfortable for the rest of the night. 

“I’ll carry him up to the guest room,” Seungcheol offers, already walking over and scooping Vernon up like a princess. He’s as gentle as one can be, but it’s a little nerve-wracking when you have the ability to crush diamonds with your bare hands. One wrong move and he could kill the teenager. Despite all the years of training and practicing control, he still worries about slipping up.

“Can you take him to my room?” Seungkwan asks suddenly, as they head towards the stairs. His cheeks heat up as he looks anywhere else but at the detective. “Please?” 

Seungcheol simply looks at him - eyebrow quirked up - but knows better than to question Seungkwan’s request. It’s clear to him the two have become closer over the past year, from the way they look at one another. It’s as if the other holds all the answers to every secret in the universe and he wonders if he ever looks at Jihoon like that. Even at his age, he could still feel his heart flutter at the mere sight of the pink-haired student. He can imagine how Seungkwan feels whenever Vernon gives him that lazy smile or that glance. And with that vision still in the forefront of his mind, how could Seungcheol say no? 

He nods and they head up to Seungkwan’s room. He places Vernon down gently on the full-sized bed before telling Seungkwan to have a good night. He grabs him into a quick hug, tapping on his back and rubbing it four times before parting. He would have kissed the crown of his head but that’d be overkill at this point. 

When Seungcheol is out of the room, Seungkwan decides to spend some time on some homework. It doesn’t take long for him to start dozing off at his desk. He can feel how heavy his eyes were, feeling the way his head is starting to fall forward and smack into his textbook. He decides it’s best to call it a night, slipping in and out of the room with ease, washing up and changing into his pyjamas, before trying to crawl into bed without disturbing Vernon’s peaceful slumber. Something much easier now that his lover is swimming in a deep, deep slumber. Lying on his side, he admires Vernon’s sleeping form, smiling at the fact he’s been sleeping for a few hours now. He hopes the other sleeps through the rest of the night because he really needs it. With a yawn, Seungkwan closes his eyes, willing his mind to fall fast asleep.

Unfortunately, Seungkwan’s hope is quickly shattered as an hour later, Vernon stirs in his sleep. In his groggy, sleep-laced mind, he thinks he hears something demonic uttering curses, but they are nothing short of incoherent. 

“ _ **Leave him alone!** _” He can hear Ted’s stern voice coming from the other side of the room. He quickly jerks his eyes open, only to stare at the most terrifying and horrifying creature hovering above Seungkwan’s sleeping body: An evil spirit. He’s only seen a couple of those in his lifetime and each one looked more inhuman than the last. The one hovering menacingly over Seungkwan has a sickly looking face, dark red and sunken - like a decaying skull. His long, sharp fingers dripping in the dark aura - the kind that pours into people’s mouths and suffocates them. Long wisps of fraying fabric flutter behind the creature as he closes in on Seungkwan. 

Vernon sits up in bed, gaining its attention and his blood freezes - the damn thing has gaping black holes with red pupils shining through. Truly a creature from Hell if Vernon says so himself. However, the sound of Seungkwan whimpering snaps him out of the demon’s grasps. He reaches out and strokes the older’s hair a couple of times before making eye contact with the haunting spirit. 

“Dude, you’re not welcomed here,” he says, his voice unwavering; logically he should be terrified, but he’s not. Perhaps it’s because the spirit doesn’t hold any power over him or it’s because he’s seen some scary shit ever since developing this strange power. Immunity seems to be the key to handling unwanted spirits that still linger on Earth. “You better make like a banana and split or else—”

“ _ **Or else what?** _ ” The spirit’s voice sounds like what every demon from Hell is imagined to be by Hollywood, only this one has a slight pitch towards the end of his question. As if agitated by Vernon’s calm composure, hell, the brat even has the _nerve_ to snicker at his own comment. Is he high or something? That has to be the answer because no way in—

Suddenly, a bright blinding light explodes into the room, wiping away any negative energy that might’ve snuck its way in. A protective spirit called upon by the prayer Seungcheol had laid out hours earlier. Within seconds of appearing, the demonic entity fades, bits of his ghoulish body breaking down into pieces until there’s no trace of it left. When Vernon lowers his hand the light dims down the intensity, revealing a woman with shoulder-length black hair and a beautiful flowing white dress. Ethereal is the only way to describe such a person. 

“ ** _Hello, Vernon. It’s lovely to see you again,_** ” the woman greets, her voice soft and soothing. A serene and fond smile growing on her face as she looks from the ghost whisperer to the boy sleeping soundly in the bed next to him. Her heart yearns to gently run her fingers against those soft, round cheeks like she used to. 

“Hi.” Vernon grins, watching the woman make her way towards Seungkwan. She places her hand on his forehead, leaning in until her nose brushes against him, like how a mother would soothe her crying baby. The scene unfolding before him is oddly private as if Vernon isn’t supposed to see it and yet, he can’t tear his eyes away. “Don’t worry… I’ll take care of him, I promise,” Vernon blurts out, covering his mouth at the very last second - cheeks growing red at his sudden confession. It isn’t like him to be so forward but Seungkwan means more to him than he realizes. 

“ ** _Thank you. I hope I’ll be seeing you again soon._** ” She gives him a smile; the kind that floods Vernon’s brain with a sense of warmth and serenity but also holds a desire for longing. She gives Vernon one last wave before fading away; bleeding into the dark of night. The entire encounter (twenty minutes at its longest) leaves Vernon feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. He doesn’t know when he started to cry, but he does. God, he feels like such a mess. 

“ ** _Don’t be sad,_** ” a female spirit next to Ted says in a soft coo. She leans her head on Ted’s shoulder, arms around his bicep as strands of her blonde hair falls across her face. She looks out with such a bittersweet smile that it’s hard to stop crying. It’s like Vernon’s fragile heart couldn’t take any more of the emotional pain that everyone lives with. 

“I’m not sad, I’m just… happy for some reason.” Vernon wipes at the tears that continue to flow down his face. “It’s a strange feeling, but I’m glad she came… I’m really glad she came.” The two spirits in front of him simply look at one another before looking back at Vernon - who busies himself by crawling back under the warm covers. After all, this hadn’t been the first time Seungkwan’s mother came down to protect her son from those who wished vengeance on him. Vernon is glad that now he gets to help in the only way he can: by providing Seungkwan with nothing but love and adoration until the end of time.

* * *

Mingyu would be a liar if he said that he swears he remembered where he put Minghao’s tripod (he doesn’t but Minghao doesn’t need to know that). Thus, forcing the three roommates and his younger sister, digging through the mess known as Minghao’s closet for that piece of camera equipment. They couldn’t find it, and when it’s time for Mingyu to go, he could still see Seokmin and Minghao searching for it while Gigi just sits on Minghao’s bed, eating chips. However, when he runs out of his apartment, he bumps into a familiar face. 

“J-Joshua!?” Mingyu says, straightening himself out and helping the older from the dirty ground. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, I’m fine…” Joshua says, chuckling nervously. “I should’ve been paying attention.” The barista shifts a bit, his arms struggling to hold something the size of a packed tripod. Mingyu nearly offers to help but his watch beeps, letting him know he has roughly five minutes to get to work or else Feifei will cut off his head with a pastry knife. Just as he bids the older man goodbye, he hears Joshua mumbling something. 

“I swear I didn’t steal it… It just… appeared in my apartment.” Mingyu pauses, turning back to see the older heading up to his apartment. A chill runs down the baker’s spine as he watches Joshua mindlessly knocking on the door, a shell of the barista that everyone knows and loves. But he doesn’t have much time to mull over it, checking his watch and cursing as he darts out of the apartment building (almost tripping over his long, tree-like legs in the process). 

Mingyu makes it to work with two seconds to spare, darting in and running past a laughing Wendy. Just as he puts on his baker’s uniform, Feifei barges into the men’s locker room and begins to speak rapidly at Mingyu, causing his head to spin. He may or may not have zoned out a bit. Boy is today hectic. 

“—Are you listening, Mingyu!?” Feifei says, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her red lips turn into a deep frown as she places her hands on her hips. All Mingyu could do at the moment is give her a sheepish chuckle and mutters an apology. Behind her he notices a new face; angular and sharp compared to Mingyu’s own features. Despite being a lot shorter than Mingyu by a lot, there’s something intimidating about the guy and it sends shivers down the older’s spine. However, there’s something about the mysterious person that is familiar, Mingyu just can’t seem to figure out what. 

Feifei sighs. “I won’t repeat myself this time, so listen up!” His boss steps aside to introduce Mingyu’s newest co-worker. “This is Yeosang, he’ll be starting here today. I’d like you to give him the rundown of the shop. He’ll be on the cash register, so make sure he knows how to use it.” She gives Mingyu a few rough pats on the shoulder before walking off, the sound of her heels clicking on the tile floor fading in the distance behind him. 

“Uh.” Mingyu tenses his outgoing nature suddenly murdered by the soulless stare the new employee gives him. “Hi, I’m Mingyu, assistant manager of Aju Nice. It’s nice to meet you.” He holds a hand out as a polite gesture (his mamas didn’t raise him to be rude). But, Yeosang just looks down at it before looking back up and quietly continues to stare. It’s horribly unnerving (and fucking rude) to say the least.

“Right, uh, so...” Mingyu retracts his hand and rubs his neck awkwardly. What a good first impression. “So, have you ever used a cash register before?” He points to the machine a few feet away. Yeosang turns to eye it before facing Mingyu once more. Mingyu doesn’t like how there’s barely any emotions on his face, it’s just blank and empty, indifferent. _Almost like a serial killer._ It makes the baker wonder if he’s a robot underneath? _Does he even speak?_

“Yes, I speak,” Yeosang says, voice deeper and calmer than expected. Mingyu jumps in his spot, nervous that the guy standing before him might be some sort of mind reader. “I’m not a mind reader.” The boy narrows his eyes at his co-worker, trying to convince him. But that doesn’t help convince Mingyu at all. 

Yeosang sighs, running a hand through his hair. “People always have the same reaction when meeting me. I get that a lot,” he explains, a hint of emotion coming through this time. Mingyu isn’t sure if the younger is frustrated or defeated like he’s tired of it. Perhaps it might be both. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu apologizes, giving him a sheepish smile. It doesn’t help quell the paranoid and weird feelings he has about the kid. It’s a strange mix of paranoia and caution even if Yeosang hasn’t given any reason to make Mingyu suspicious. Sure, his face is cold looking but that doesn’t mean anything. For now, all he can do is just go with the flow and keep an eye on the younger. Thus, their training begins as Wendy clocks out and shoots Mingyu a wink while mouthing the words ‘Totally your type’ at him. Mingyu is going to pretend he didn’t see that. 

To Mingyu’s surprise, training the newbie is fairly easy. Yeosang is a quick learner and is able to function the register with no errors an hour into his shift. He seems to be a lot smarter than Mingyu anticipated. He’s not sure if that’s something he should be suspicious of or not. _Why am I so paranoid suddenly?_ he wonders, his lips turning into a deep frown. 

“I can go on break, right?” Yeosang asks while checking the time. Mingyu simply nods. “I’m going up the street to get a cup of coffee, would you like me to get you one?” Suddenly, the baker feels guilty for being paranoid. 

“S-Sure! Though I prefer tea, green tea. Let me just get my wallet—”

“No need, it’s on me. As thanks for teaching me so well.” Yeosang manages to crack a smile, but it still looks empty to Mingyu. But he’s going to focus more on the effort this time. He watches his new co-worker exit the bakery and walks next door - that feeling of paranoia still lingering in the pit of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what we do, leave us a kudos or a comment :)  
> It really motivates us to do even more!


	5. How Do I Know If This Shit's Fabricated?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title take from: [breathin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1BYr1br2Ee4) by Ariana Grande
> 
> So, don't kill us, but since the story takes place in America, we've given all the SVT members and the TXT members English names if it hasn't been mentioned. (Also, I'm very aware that Junhui's English name is supposedly Jerry, but that didn't happen so, forgive us on that).   
> In the current chapter the names are as follows:
> 
> Spencer - Wonwoo  
> Luka - Jihoon  
> Katherine - JiWoo

Jaehwan has recently hired a new employee who still needs lots of training, and for some reason refuses to take said training from anyone but Joshua. The new employee, San, wears a wide smile that could be considered creepy to some on his face when he’s given a generous tip for the fifth time today. Joshua thinks it’s because the kid is handsome or the fact that he exhibits some kind of puppy-like innocence that has the older ladies swooning. In fact, three of the older ladies came up and asked Joshua for San’s number.

Joshua does admit that the whole scenario is kind of cute, even if the boy is a little strange. However, he’s still curious about the young adult ever since seeing San’s application. In fact, the majority of the basic information isn’t even filled out. There’s no full name (he’s just San apparently), no address, no phone number and no photo ID that could positively identify him. But Joshua trusts Jaehwan in whatever he’s doing, he just hopes the elder isn’t doing anything illegal. Lawsuits are bad for business. 

“No! No! No! You can’t leave, you haven’t paid yet!” San’s frantic shouting startles Joshua and he turns to see his co-worker leaning over the counter to stop the customer from leaving. “That… That isn’t right. There needs to be a card… or green paper.” Joshua quickly rushes over to help sort the situation out, apologizing for San’s behaviour to the customer who looks slightly irritated (maybe it’s just his face, but he doesn’t know that). 

“I already paid,” the customer mutters. Yanking out his phone and gestures to the card reader. He paid wirelessly via his online wallet and the transaction that has taken place. He indeed has paid. 

“Sorry, I haven’t taught him how to process that kind of transaction yet,” Joshua explains, nibbling on his bottom lip. He quickly pulls out a pink and blue card and scribbles something on it. “Most customers pay with cash or card.” Joshua hands over the small business card, explaining to the disgruntled customer that he could use it for a free drink next time. 

The man waves it off, “That’s fine.” Joshua puts on a tight smile, hurrying off to help San with some of the technical issues when he notices that disgruntled customer is still staring at them. His eyes focus on Joshua as if he’s scanning the soft-spoken barista over like a piece of meat. Just as Joshua is about to ask him if there’s something wrong, the man interrupts him. 

“Ah, right. I was supposed to order my co-worker something too,” he mutters, heading towards the counter once more and asks for green tea to go. “Here.” He pulls out cash this time and shoves it into San’s hand. Joshua calls out to San, telling him he’ll prepare it and once the older barista is out of earshot, San tugs Yeosang closer. 

“I think I found Jisoo,” San whispers, opening the cash register and slipping the bills in. He hands change back to Yeosang, a sinister grin spreading across his face. 

“How do you know for sure?” Yeosang raises an eyebrow, stepping away from the counter. San merely gives a cryptic smile, one that says they’ll be talking about it when they return to the HALA base. Yeonsang sends one back as he waits for his second drink for his rather awkward and clumsy coworker. 

“One green tea to go for… James,” Joshua calls out. Yeosang raises his hand, heading over to the counter where Joshua is handing over the cup. Like an attack on his mentality, Yeosang suddenly stumbles back a bit. Something dark and toxic swirls around his mind as he stares at innocent-looking Joshua, who is just standing there wondering what the hell is going on. Something tells Yeosang not to make contact with Joshua under any means; unless you want your soul to be ripped out. 

So, his logical response happened to be waiting for the cup to be set down on the counter. That comes a lot sooner than Yeosang anticipated. Another complicated coffee order comes through, which forces Joshua to set the tea down. Yeosang waits a few seconds then grabs the tea and tells San goodbye. He’ll get more information when the next meeting comes. All Yeosang hopes is to be out of this monkey suit soon - he’s not sure how much longer he could even keep up his facade without tearing a hole into the wall. 

Despite the extra help, the cafe remains busy (it’s mainly because Jaehwan doesn’t have enough employees despite the literal pile of applications he gets every week). On any normal day Joshua doesn’t mind the chaos that comes through the door - it honestly makes the time go by way faster than if he were to sit around and twiddle his thumbs. But today isn’t a normal day, not if he’s secretly hoping today is the day Jeonghan asks him to lunch. A man could have his disgustingly romantic fantasies that may or may not cause him to swoon. 

Just as he hands the last cup of coffee, Joshua feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. When there are no more customers, he quickly pulls it out. A bright smile spreads across his face when he sees that it’s a text from Jeonghan. _Be still my beating heart._ But Joshua couldn’t help feeling like he’s a high school girl with a massive crush. Is this what infatuation feels like? 

**Jeonghan (Soulmate)**

_Are you free for lunch today? :)_

**Me**

_Yeah, I should be on break soon._

_Do I meet you there?_

**Jeonghan (Soulmate)**

_No, I’ll personally come and get you!_

_Just wait for me, Soulmate! ;)_

There are a million migrating butterflies fluttering around his stomach, it feels light and airy as if he’s walking on clouds. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He shouldn’t be having a rapid heartbeat nor should he be feeling sweat pool at the palm of his hands. Joshua shouldn’t be this curious about a man he barely knows. Crushes are nothing more than disappointments wrapped in a dream-like state. It’s lovely at first until the person flat out rejects you. Yet, he can’t 

stop himself from grinning when he reads Jeonghan’s message over and over again. 

“Why are you smiling at your phone like an idiot?” Kyungsoo asks, popping up from behind. Joshua lets out a small yelp and flails as his phone goes flying. San catches it with ease and soon, the two traitors huddle together, reading the last couple of messages. Kyunsoo lets out a massive smile (it’s less creepy than one might think since Kyungsoo has such large eyes) and slaps Joshua on the back. Joshua stumbles from the older man’s strength. 

“What does ‘Soulmate’ mean?” San asks, chucking the phone back to Joshua (who fumbles a bit but manages to stop it from diving headfirst into a frothing pitcher). 

“Uh... N-Nothing,” he says, eyes darting around. He flashes a shaky grin, pretending to conveniently forget the meaning of the word. Only to be betrayed instantly by Kyungsoo - who promptly tells the new employee what the word ‘Soulmate’ means. Joshua dramatically falls against the counter sobbing out, “Kyungsoo, I trusted you” into his arms. But alas, as one might’ve suspected, Kyungsoo knows no love or sympathy as he makes no effort to comfort the (fake) sobbing barista. 

“When are you planning to take your break?” Kyungsoo asks, wiping down the counter as San mans the register with a sharp focus. 

“In about… twenty minutes?” Joshua replies, looking at the large clock behind them. “Yeah, twenty minutes.” The time frame seems to cause Kyungsoo to frown, his eyebrows furrowing and tiny wrinkles appearing between his brows. He checks the clock once more then at the schedule pinned on the corkboard. 

“I don’t think you can, Seokmin hasn’t shown up today.” 

“Oh, he hasn’t? When does his shift start?” 

“Fifteen minutes ago.” 

Joshua’s mouth twists into a frown, fiddling with his guitar pick he normally has around his neck. There’s a small selfish part of him that wishes this wasn’t happening because it’s ruining his plans that he’s been so looking forward to having. But the bigger part of him is more concerned for his co-worker. Seokmin may not have the greatest record for calling in sick, but he works hard at his job and tries his best. That’s what Jaehwan’s cafe is all about essentially. It’s giving people that chance at normalcy when everyone else has rejected them. 

“I’ll give him a call to see what’s up,” Joshua says, pulling his phone out and looking up Seokmin’s contact. Though, with Seokmin, sometimes it’s best not to bother him when he’s in one of his moods. Other times it doesn’t hurt to check in on him, sometimes Seokmin does forget. Joshua just hopes it’s the latter when he calls the younger barista - nothing is worse than feeling like you’re cornering someone. 

It rings a few times before he hears someone pick up. It’s quiet before he hears a forced greeting, the sound of reluctance clear in Seokmin’s voice. It’s a bad day today. 

“Hey Seok, I was just calling to check in on you since you didn’t come in this morning? Are you okay?” Joshua’s gentle voice is soothing, like honey in a cup of warm tea. He hears Seokmin quietly whimper on the other side, like he feels guilty about missing work again. “Are you sick? It’s okay if you forgot to call in sick, I know that’s the last thing on our minds when we fall ill,” he says.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t call in. I forgot.” Seokmin’s scratchy voice is evident of the younger either screaming his lungs out in his closet or crying. Just that fact alone makes Joshua feel even worse for thinking about his break only. 

“No worries, just get some rest and feel better soon, okay? Make sure to call in tomorrow if you’re still feeling unwell.” He’s met with a short noise of affirmation before the call drops, only the dial tone buzzing in Joshua’s ear. He bites on his lower lip, thumb hovering over Jeonghan’s message thread. It’d be such a shame for the blond to come all the way down to the cafe only to be turned away at the last second especially when Joshua has the responsibility of taking care of the new guy. It’s simply unfair for him to drop his trainee on Kyungsoo when the cafe is already understaffed as it is. At least, that’s what Joshua tells himself as he types the foreboding message. 

“So he’s sick?” Kyungsoo asks, snapping Joshua out of his thoughts. “I’ll let Jaehwan know.” Before the older turns away, he pauses, contemplating something. “By the way, you can take your break, I’ll handle the noob,” he says. “Enjoy your lunch date with your soulmate.” 

Joshua stands there, cheeks flushing as time freezes around him. He dips his head down in shame, covering his cheeks as he hears Kyungsoo lecturing San about basic human relationships. But it seems like San doesn’t quite understand the concept of love thus forcing the eldest barista to roll his eyes and say, “You’re a weird kid.” 

The bell above the front door chimes, drawing everyone’s attention. San yells out the greeting to the cafe, looking incredibly proud of himself as he stares at Joshua for approval. All the older could do is give a sheepish thumbs up. He turns towards the counter and instantly freezes. Jeonghan (with his blond hair tied back into a low ponytail) stands there with the sun’s rays shining on him from behind, causing Joshua’s insides to turn into mush. His insides slowly melt out when Jeonghan flashes him a smile that looks like it’s from Heaven itself. Joshua must look like some lovesick fool for staring at him for so long. 

The blond brushes his long side fringe from his face and tucks a part of it behind his ear, allowing some of the strands to fall over his face. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, hands in his pocket and a cute tilt of his head. After what seems like minutes (in reality, it’s only been seconds) of ogling, Joshua manages to get himself together and nods. It takes him five minutes to pull off his apron and grab his wallet from his employee locker in the back. When he returns to the front counter, he hears Kyungsoo warning Jeonghan to have Joshua back by one-thirty pm, a full half an hour after the original time. It’s a pleasant surprise, to say the least, but he appreciates it nonetheless. 

As the pair heads out, Joshua hears San calling behind them - a garble of words that sounds like “Have fun while you still can” or “Have buns while you still can”. Either way, it sends nothing but a chill down Joshua’s spine and he doesn’t know why. 

“That new employee seems interesting,” Jeonghan says with a teasing grin, gently elbowing Joshua in the side. 

“Ah, yeah, he’s interesting for sure.” Joshua flashes a sheepish smile. “There’s something about him that - how should I word it - concerns me.”

“What makes you say that?”

Joshua nibbles on his lower lip, wondering how much he should be saying. Is it strange to want to tell someone you barely know all your grievances? Yet, there’s something alluring about Jeonghan that allows Joshua to open up so damn easily. It’s like the words are being coaxed out of his body. 

“He doesn’t seem to understand basic human interactions… There's a part of me that wonders if all of it is just an illusion,” Joshua says, eyes not looking at the way Jeonghan is working out the kinks of this mysterious co-worker of his. A thought races through Joshua’s mind but he isn’t fully sure if it’s out of line. maybe _I should have Seungcheol look into this._ For the sake of Joshua’s own safety that is. The last thing he wants is for San to jump him when it’s dark outside and there’s no one around to hear Joshua scream. 

* * *

A tired feeling envelopes Junhui as he heads to 24/7 (which is stupidly misleading, by the way. You’d expect a store called that would be open twenty-four hours, seven days a week, but this store defies that logic by only opening five days and for twelve hours only) to finally get the packages he doesn’t remember ordering from a week ago. (He only knew about these packages from the emails he’s been receiving). The Chinese assistant groans, his legs feeling heavy with cinder blocks as he stumbles into the fairly busy pick up area of 24/7. The final stop before he can head home and relax - he double-checks the time on his brown faux leather watch his mother had gotten for him as a graduation present. Eleven forty-seven, perfect. If all goes well, Junhui could be home by no later than twelve-thirty and with that, he’d be about to finish the mountain of work he still has left. But it seems like destiny has a desire to foil Junhui’s carefully timed plans as the line seems to be taking forever - a small bump that he shouldn’t grovel too much about. Regardless, just looking at the snail pace of the line and the two poor employees struggling to keep up with the demand, makes Junhui wish the day is over so he’s out of his misery. 

“Psst, hey!” He jumps suddenly when he hears something or someone trying to catch his attention, ignoring it. A simple mistaken identity, something that happens to him quite often (much to Junhui’s surprise). But the voice continues, annoying the living shit out of him before creeping him out when the voice calls his name. If it’s about the ghost he randomly summoned when he was fifteen, he already apologized to the spirit he annoyed. He turns to see who the annoying bastard is, a glare already prepared on his face when his annoying scowl softens at the familiar face smiling sweetly back. Soonyoung standing in the line next to the assistant, wearing a grey baggy t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans and a nice ballcap. It makes Junhui feel a little silly with his oversized spilt-coloured hoodie and black jeans. Maybe it is a severe fashion understatement considering the fact that Junhui works for one of the top clothing brands Good To Me fashion. He has to look good at work all the time but he doesn’t have to look good while running errands. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Junhui gives the other a small polite smile - one that you give out of politeness rather than out of genuine happiness - with a small nod. They’ve never been that close, Soonyoung is more Jihoon’s friend and Junhui is far too socially awkward to engage in a proper conversation with the dancer. The two return back to their respective lines, allowing some silence between the two. Until Junhui, himself, can’t stand the silence anymore and begins making unusual small talk - extremely unusual if Junhui says so himself. If they’re going to be more than awkward strangers to less awkward strangers, they might as well get to know one another. The mindless chatter would normally drive the Chinese man insane, yet, Junhui indulges in the conversation with Soonyoung. He allows the younger to chatter mindlessly away, occasionally throwing a word in or laughing when appropriate. 

“Next!” one of the employees shouts. 

“Oh, that’s fast!” Junhui says, waving at Soonyoung. “I’ll see you around! It was lovely talking to you mate!” The dancer waves as Junhui bounces forward to the counter, patiently waiting his turn while wondering what on earth the older Chinese man is picking up. Then another thought comes to his mind: why does he even care? _He’s probably picking up toilet paper or something stupid like that_ , he tells himself, smiling like a moron while trying to hold in his laughter. But when he looks up, he frowns when he sees the panicked expression on one of the clerk’s faces as she hesitates, rigidly turning around and heading into the back. 

Soonyoung’s line powers through a couple more customers before the panic-stricken clerk rushes out and grabs another clerk who had just arrived for help. Soonyoung eyes the older boy, who stands there, leaning over and staring at the back of the counter. The clerk at the front calls Soonyoung over, inputting the information. 

“You’re here to pick up a bag of hamster pellets and some hamster chew toys?” the employee says, tapping away at the computer. Soonyoung nods, drumming patiently on the counter as the employee continues to murmur under their breath, before the female clerk from earlier returns, grabbing the one helping Soonyoung and together the two disappear into the back. An annoyed frown begins to form on his face, turning to stare at Junhui, who in return gives a sheepish smile. 

“What did you order that got them so stressed?” he asks. “Did you buy out the entire store?” 

“Uhm… No?” The question seems to silence Junhui, who hides his face in his massive sweater paws as if that totally negates the fact that the employees are insanely stressed. How is it such a difficult question to answer? But then, Junhui opens his mouth, as if he’s about to give Soonyoung a solid answer, only for the three clerks to return and dump what seems to be four massive boxes of miscellaneous junk. Soonyoung only stares in utter disbelief as Junhui loads up the heavy looking boxes into a blue wagon. The trio then leaves, heading towards the back, as Junhui turns to the ever-growing line of annoyed and disgruntled people. 

“I’m sorry, I just have a lot of things to buy,” Junhui says. “I swear it’ll be over soon!” But that’s a complete lie, as the clerks went back three more times; each coming out with more and more items. Each time the backdoors open, the clerks come out with more and more ridiculous items; like a giant plush Santa or thirty advent calenders. Someone must’ve gotten impatient at the back of the line, rushing up to the front, shouting, “What’s the fuckin— Oh my god.” With that, the person slowly backs away from the towering mountain happening on Junhui’s wagon. Soonyoung can’t help but bust out into a fit of giggling, placing his face into his hand, utterly amused at the sight. The clerk helping him comes back, with his items in hand. 

“Sorry about that man,” the guy says, handing it over. “We’re a bit backed up.”

“No worries dude!” Soonyoung replies, gathering his items and heads towards the exit. Curiosity takes over, causing him to linger around the automatic doors, tapping aimlessly on his cellphone. It’s a foil in his plans, a mere bump in the road, but his insatiable need for explanations to the unexplainable has to be satisfied. He taps his foot impatiently, wondering when Junhui’s ridiculous mountain will finally end. Thirteen minutes later, the said man comes out; with a massive stuffed teddy on his back and _another_ grocery trolley behind him, in addition to that mountain-sized wagon. 

“Oh, did you wait for me? That’s awfully sweet of you,” Junhui says, struggling comically with the massive teddy on his back as he staggers out. 

“Were you drunk when you bought all of this?” Soonyoung eyes him, an expression of shock (he couldn’t believe some man is capable of buying the entire store) and amusement (it’s hilarious to think someone _actually_ bought out the whole store like this is some stupid rom-com) plastered on his face as he gives the older a quick run through with his eyes. That’s the only explanation as to why someone would buy so much shit. 

“Wh-What!? No!” Junhui whines, his voice sounding like a defeated child. Soonyoung supposes that the older does look like a little kid being weighed down by the giant bear on his back. But as the younger one looks at Junhui struggling to carry everything, a sense of pity fills him and the angel in his mind tells him to give him a hand; even if it’s just for a little while. He watches Junhui pause, staring at the items in his wagon; doing his best to pull it from how heavy it is before Soonyoung focuses his attention on the lightest of the heavy items, watching them stack on top of one another in the air. Elevating some of the weight off the wagon, much to the older’s surprise. The bear begins to float upwards as well, along with Soonyoung’s hamster items.

“I’m going home early too! Let me help?” Soonyoung asks, smiling brightly when he sees Junhui’s wide smile, he can see the look of relief on the older’s face. Besides, Soonyoung believes he’s earning some good karma points by helping out. That has to count for something. 

“Thanks!” Junhui says, leading the way, occasionally looking back. Once they’re both a block away from 24/7, Junhui breaks the silence between the two. “Why do you need so much hamster food Soonyoung?” 

“I just got a new pet the other month… Don’t you remember?” Junhui pauses, thinking about it for a minute - he thinks Soonyoung mentioned something about a new pet, but honestly, he couldn’t remember. He tugs on the wagon behind him as Soonyoung continues to fill the empty air - something he doesn’t like at all due to the silence scaring him - with stories about his hamster and the oddities that sometimes happen whenever Hoshi Yoshi gets too adventurous. It’s never pleasant but it seems to be funny enough for Junhui to break out into innocent laughter - where his eyes crinkle upwards. Thinking about where they stand, Soonyoung is a little shocked that they aren’t closer. Their personalities interlink with one another as Junhui launches into his own weird story about his time back in London (something he’s sure Jihoon or WonWoo knew about despite the pair being friends with the elder). 

A luxury apartment building comes into view, slamming Soonyoung back to reality. How the hell will they lug everything up to Junhui’s luxury apartment? (Which, by the way, the first time Soonyoung saw it back in July, he nearly had a heart attack from how expensive it looked. The suite itself probably costs more than Soonyoung and Hoshi Yoshi combined). 

Junhui says something about giving his new roommates something but sheepishly admits, “I don’t know much about them. Maybe you can pick out their gifts.” Soonyoung looks through and spots an item or two that he thinks his roommates of four years would enjoy. There’s nothing wrong with free stuff. But just as Soonyoung is about to take something that he assumes Junhui wouldn’t need (like who the fuck needs a home mushroom farm, a smart ukulele, and a set of measuring spoons that look like music notes) he just collapses. It takes zero point one second for Junhui to go from staring at Soonyoung’s unconscious body to him freaking out in the middle of the street because what the actual fuck? How does this work? 

Looking around he doesn’t see anyone who could help him and with a lot of stress (which happens to cause a sudden snowfall around them) he hikes up Soonyoung’s unconscious body on his back (pulling out a harness he got a few years ago from his sleeves) and secures the dancer on. Then, he makes a very painful journey up to the seventeenth floor, where he wishes Cthulhu would come out of nowhere and end him now. 

* * *

_They totally ditched me again, didn’t they?_ JiWoo scowls at her phone after reading a late text from her friends in their private group chat, the one that excludes their youngest friend Chan. He’s too young for some of the stupid shit they say to each other. 

**Booyoncé**

_heading home early_

_get home safely Uwu, dont talk to strangers!_

**Banana Purée**

_it might rain again later so be careful my dudes_

**Booyoncé**

_if thats the case, u better come over_

_no sense in catching a pesky cold if u dont have to_

**Banana Purée**

_its ok i dont wanna trouble anyone_

**Booyoncé**

_either u come home with me or_

_i will personally drag ur ass home with me_

**Banana Purée**

_ok lol_

They sent all of it during P.E. when she didn’t have access to her phone. She was wondering where they were, since they didn’t show up for class, nor did they text her the usual invite to ditch. A part of her doesn’t really care, but another part does, a lot. Lately, she’s been feeling a little left out when it comes to Seungkwan and Vernon. Maybe they’re just doing guy things (whatever that means) and thought she’s not interested? Or maybe she unintentionally gave off ‘I want to be alone’ vibes again like last time, damn the Jeon family’s curse of the resting bitch face. 

Whatever the reason, she’s been seeing a lot less of them these days. It’s almost as if they’re avoiding her? But why? _What did I do?_ It troubles her to think she might have upset them in some way without realizing it herself. There have been a few misunderstandings between them in the past, especially between her and Seungkwan.

Despite having a hard time keeping her truth bombs to herself, sometimes the truth hurts. She wouldn’t be surprised if she’s said something that pissed them off these past few days and they just didn’t want to say anything. They know she doesn’t do well with confrontation. Maybe they’re still mad about her inviting Kai (didn’t he invite himself?), or the fact they got detention because of it (that being Jeonghan’s fault, honestly). But are things really better left unsaid she wonders. 

_Whatever._ Maybe she does want to be alone this time and decides to just go with it. She shuts her locker door with a deep sigh, turning and heading out for the day. Most of the students have already left by this point, via the bus or the car pick-up lane to the left of the school building. Others are still milling about with each other near the gate. 

She silently makes her way past them, trying not to feel self-conscious about the fact she’s the odd one out among them. By the time she makes it to the gate, she gets the strange feeling that she’s being watched from behind. She resists the urge to take a look, not wanting to draw attention to herself by looking like some paranoid weirdo and continues walking. The feeling doesn’t go away the entire walk to Carat Cafe. She thought to treat herself to a cup of peppermint tea after going through hell, aka P.E. She’s too lazy to make it herself at home, so she’s hoping this cafe has some she can buy on the go before heading home. 

It’s only after entering the cafe that she finds out she doesn’t have her wallet. Her heart sinks at the thought she might have dropped it on the way there, or worse, someone stole it out of her bag at school. She dumps out her bag on one of the empty tables to double-check, only to discover she also doesn’t have her keys either. She shoves everything back into her bag when she sees an employee approaching her. He flashes her a friendly smile before greeting her, asking if she needs any help.

“Uh, I’m fine,” she manages to get out, avoiding eye contact while her shaking hands fumble to close her bag, missing two times. “I don’t have any money, so I was just leaving.” She tosses her bag over her shoulder and faces him so she could at least tell him goodbye like a normal person. The number of times she’s entered places like this and didn’t at least say ‘thank you’ or ‘have a nice day’ is downright embarrassing. Her friends would always scold her about it and she’s always promising to say it the next time. This is that time. 

“Didn’t we meet a while ago?” the barista asks, still flashing his cat-like smile. His name tag says ‘Joshua’ glinting from the sunlight peering in from the window behind her. “At Network Love, with Detective Choi and Jeonghan?” The mere mention of those names seems to relax the student and a shy smile spreads across her lips. His face is definitely familiar to her now that she looks at him properly. 

“Oh yeah, we did.” She nods. “Joshua, right?” He glances at his name tag and chuckles when she turns slightly and slaps a hand over her face. “Sorry, that was dumb.”

“No, it’s alright. Who knows, I could have grabbed someone else’s name tag by mistake and been living a lie this entire time?” He’s pleased to see his attempt at joking works when she giggles. “But as far as I know, my name is indeed Joshua.” 

JiWoo can’t help but notice he seemed a little confused when saying that, like he’s not entirely sure of it himself. A part of him looks distant, stuck in his own world. She doesn’t comment on it, instead, she becomes awkwardly silent. She’s not sure how to get out of the conversation. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, she just doesn’t want to hog up his time when he’s on the clock. Plus, she doesn’t have her wallet, she has no business here right now. 

“I should, uh, probably get going,” she says softly, taking a step back to get a start on leaving. She watches Joshua’s expression shift. He looks sad to see her leave so soon and asks if she doesn’t want to order anything? “I don’t have my wallet.” He slaps a hand over his forehead.

“Right! You said that, sorry, I forgot,” he says with a sheepish smile. “Forgive me, I don’t really have a strong memory.”

“It’s okay, it happens,” she assures him. She can be forgetful herself, now that she clearly remembers forgetting to put her wallet and house key into her bag this morning. Usually she doesn’t make that kind of mistake, but she supposes the spontaneous trip to the store last night didn’t help. 

“Well, I’d hate to send you away with nothing after you came all the way here. Would you mind if I bought you whatever you were planning to buy?” Joshua offers, gesturing to the counter. 

“I was going to buy some peppermint tea if you had any? But you don’t need to do that, don’t worry, I’m fine!” 

“We do, and I really don’t mind, don’t worry.” He smiles and leads her over to the pick-up counter. She stands there while he rings up the order before stepping away to prepare it. His bug-eyed co-worker stares at her with a blank expression, causing her heart rate to increase. She tries to distract herself by texting her brother that she forgot her house key and when he’ll be home.

“Did that kid pay?” he asks just as Joshua returns. 

“I paid for it,” he answers. “Don’t worry.”

“You’re too kind,” his co-worker snickers and wanders away, tending to other customers in the dining area.

“Just ignore him,” Joshua says once the other is out of earshot. But his co-worker somehow manages to hear that and looks at them from a distance. Imagine if his head had turned a full one hundred and eighty degree like some human owl. Now that would be a sight to see. “Enjoy your tea… JiWoo?” 

“Yes, thank you.” She nods and accepts it from him just as her phone pings, causing her to nearly drop the cup. Hot liquid spills over the back of her hand and burns the skin. “Sorry!” she hisses, managing to set the cup down without spilling even more. She shakes the remaining liquid off her hand and scans the room for a bathroom. _I need to run it under cold water._

“No, I’m sorry! I should have put a lid on it!” Joshua says frantically while thinking of what to do first. She mentions she’s going to the bathroom and his brain glitches for a moment. He’s just standing there staring at the mess on the counter then remembering the pained look on her face. While he should have put a lid on the cup, it’s not really his fault that she jumped at the sound of her phone going off. He can’t put all the blame on himself, but that’s just Joshua Hong for you, he takes the blame regardless. He knocks on his head in frustration and guilt. _How could you forget to put a lid on?_ He snaps out of it when she returns, asking for some ice. He quickly fetches some into a towel, mentally scolding himself for not acting quicker and having it ready for her when she came back. 

“I’m truly sorry,” Joshua says, heartbroken when he sees how red the skin is on the back of her hand. “All that training in my first aid college class seems to be forgotten after all these years…”

“It’s okay, it’s my fault for being easily startled… I’ve always been this way, don’t beat yourself up about it too much.” 

“May I examine your hand? You probably should see a doctor regardless.” She offers him her hand without further questions. She rests it into his palm to avoid agitating the burned skin. She trusts him for some reason. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself or perhaps it’s that calm demeanor he carries. While he examines her right hand, she uses her left hand to access her phone to see Wonwoo had responded to her earlier message. She definitely won’t be telling him his text is what startled her, resulting in her burning her hand. 

“What happened?” Joshua’s co-worker from earlier returns to the counter, noticing Joshua holding the customer’s hand. “She’s way too young for you, Joshua,” he teases, causing him to look his way. Eyes large and slightly startled. “You should know better!” Joshua flushes, struggling to come up with an answer as Kyungsoo continues to poke fun at him. Honestly, the opportunity presented itself and Kyungsoo would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

“What? No, no that’s not what this is,” Joshua explains before returning his gaze down at her hand. “She got burned by the tea…” He trails off, surprised to see her skin has turned back to its ghostly pale state, no longer tinted red from the burn. He glances up at JiWoo who’s struggling to text someone back with her left hand, cursing under breath from all the typos she’s making. “Does it still hurt?” 

“Oh?” She takes a look at her hand, flexing the fingers with no pain at all. Strange. “That’s… weird. Maybe the ice helped?” She pulls her hand out of his and touches the back of it, cautious at first. _It doesn’t hurt…? But how?_ It’s a mystery, but at the same time, a relief. 

“Maybe the tea wasn’t hot enough,” Kyungsoo pitches in. “Quit slacking, Joshua!” 

Joshua doesn’t reply, just relieved that JiWoo wasn’t severely burned. He’d rather have been slacking than have to worry about a lawsuit later on because of this. He cleans up the mess on the counter before preparing another cup of tea with a lid on it this time. “I hope you can enjoy it this time,” he chuckles sheepishly.

“I’ll be careful!” she says with a nervous giggle. “Thank you so much! I’ll get going now!” She gives him a small wave and heads out of the cafe, leaving Joshua standing there feeling exhausted suddenly. He leans on the counter and holds onto the side of his aching head. _What’s wrong with me all of a sudden?_ He’s not sure he’s just overwhelmed by the small incident. There’s a small burning sensation on the back of his right hand, almost like he also burned his hand during that encounter. He holds it against his chest protectively and tries to calm himself down before the next customer enters, asking for more hot tea. He prays he doesn’t screw up a second time.

* * *

The sound of Junhui’s phone ringing wakes him from his exhausted sleep. It’s the first day he’s had off in months and he’s rudely awoken from his nap by someone calling him. What a load of absolute horseshit, he thinks as his long limbs scramble to find his phone buried under the pile of pillows he has. He lifts the phone up to his head and grumbles out a sleepy “Hello”. 

“Junhui ge?” Junhui instantly sits up, ignoring the rush of blood towards his head. Oh, it’s a language he desperately misses, spoken in a voice he misses even more. His younger brother Mochou’s voice brings nothing but comfort to the elder, his sadness slowly melting away. “I’m sorry I missed your call.” 

“It’s okay, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” Junhui replies, his Mandarin feeling rusty from lack of use. God, how long has it been since he’s spoken to someone in his native tongue? Months? Years? He doesn’t even know. The temperature around him dips, cold air fluttering around the bedroom as that numbing wound reopens. “You’re… twelve now right?” _God, I don’t even know how old my own brother is._

“Yup! And mom ‘nd dad is taking me to Disneyland Tokyo!” A pang of envy shoots through Junhui’s body, one he doesn’t deserve to feel. Why does he feel so jealous of his younger brother? For god’s sake Junhui is twenty-two years old, he shouldn’t be feeling like this. Plus, he could take himself to extravagant places like that - he doesn’t need his parents to do the same. Swallowing down that sadness, he smiles into the phone, telling his Mochou about how amazing it sounds. His brother tells him everything Junhui never got as a child and that envious pang begins to grow; a traitorous vine wrapping around his throat constricting it. He hates it so much. He swallows the lump filling his senses as he pulls himself out of bed. The sun rises over the horizon and Junhui is reminded by the utter emptiness of his lavish apartment. What’s the point of having so much luxury when all it does is fill you up with empty calories?

“Gege,” Mochou says, snapping Junhui out of his thoughts. “I’m gonna go to sleep now. Take care of yourself, okay?” 

“I will, promise.” The dial tone is louder when Junhui pulls his phone away from his ear. That pang of sadness enveloping him like a fallen angel - a light feather touch to his skin with burning hate of sadness that lingers. He stalks down to his kitchen, putting on a small pot of coffee - noting how silent the apartment is. The others must still be out and Soonyoung must still be knocked out, despite it being late in the afternoon. Expensive coffee beans - courtesy of Jeonghan and his desire to take care of his assistant. It wasn’t Jeonghan who didn’t want his assistant to take some time off (lord knows Jeonghan fusses over his workers as much as he does his cat and nephew). It’s Junhui who couldn’t handle the crippling emptiness of his apartment. Now, armed with a porcelain mug of coffee (which tastes as good as one could get it to be), he slips into his bedroom and into something comfortable before heading the shower to escape that horrid nagging feeling lingering at the back of his mind. 

Envy swirls in the pit of his stomach as the lukewarm water pours over his body, that freezing cold feeling never going away. Frost begins to crawl across his body as Junhui rests his head against the frosted glass. There’s a painful desire within the depths of his soul that aches to be filled with pointless possessions but that gluttonous bastard can never be satisfied no matter how much Junhui throws things at it. He could dump truckloads of possessions into that black hole of a creature, and it’ll never be sedated. It gnaws at the sides of his body, chewing thoughtfully and maliciously at his organs. 

The water now feels like bullets hitting his skin. He steps out and stares at himself in the mirror. Dripping hair and soulless eyes with a broken smile that he has mastered over the years. Asking his parents to stay with him is selfish - “ _Dad is giving you the life he never had_ ” - asking for more human interaction is childish. “ _You’re eight years old, Junhui. Do you_ really _need someone to hug you_ ?” Perhaps that’s why he craves touch so much. Perhaps their strict and cold way of teaching is what Junhui needed. After all, he’s far too emotional, too eccentric, too _weird_ to fit in with society. 

Society is looking for perfect little robots that obey the overlord’s every command. Society is not looking for someone like Junhui. 

* * *

Wonwoo’s ready to go home, but alas, his class schedule doesn’t have the same idea in mind. He’s currently finishing up some lab work before his next lecture in an hour. Sometimes he regrets being a full-time student, but at least he’ll graduate sooner than later. He’s planning to take more control of his schedule next semester for sure. This is the last time he lets his academic adviser talk him into nine am morning classes. He hates how it’s left him with a large period of time between his morning class and his afternoon classes, forcing him to stay on campus literally all day. That is unless he wants to waste gas driving all the way home and back. Too much effort, but occasionally he’ll leave for lunch if he has the energy. 

But nine out of ten times, he usually eats on campus because it’s more convenient, and he’s too busy to leave and come back. He likes to keep home a little less miserable by finishing his homework and assignments at the library or the computer lab before going home. Unfortunately, that just means he’s hardly ever home these days, forcing him to wonder how his sister’s been doing And if she gets lonely. He likes to believe she spends a lot of time with her friends to the point his absence doesn’t even make a difference. But he still can’t help but feel a gnawing pang of guilt. 

Halfway into his lab work, he notices a new message when checking the time on his phone. It’s too much effort to turn his neck to look at the clock on the wall to his right or to raise up his wrist to check his watch. Wonoo Jeon may be the epitome of laziness right after Jeonghan Yoon. (Somewhere across town he’s sleeping in his office while his poor assistant tries to direct all his clueless employees on what to do next). Wonwoo figures it’s just a message from Soonyoung again asking where they put the secret sauce (which they don’t have), but upon closer examination (because he totally had the energy to sit forward) he notices it’s from JiWoo. He discreetly opens it to see what’s up, she barely texts him unless she’s asking for something. 

**My Little UWU**

_I forgot my keys, I’m locked out._

_When do you think you’ll be home?_

He frowns, worry seeping in as he thinks up all the terrible things that can happen while she’s locked out of the house. Some hooligans might try to hit on her again, someone might kidnap her, someone might hurt her, or worse, kill her. _Why am I like this?_ He shakes that last thought out of his head quickly. It’s not like he always thinks irrationally. In fact, Wonwoo Jeon likes to think he’s a very rational person. And the chances of those insane things he just thought happening today are slim to none. However, there’s a _potential_ that it could happen someday. And Wonwoo is scared of potential happenings.

**Me**

_I won’t be done until maybe 6:30 ish this evening._

_I’m sorry._

**My Little UWU**

_That’s okay._

_Should I just come to the campus and wait?_

**Me**

_If you want to, sure!_

He did think about asking why she doesn’t just go stay with Seungkwan until he’s finished but a thought dawns upon him. _She texted me in the first place, maybe something happened? Aliens!? Soonyoung’s cooking!?_ Or maybe she didn’t want to burden her best friend, which is understandable. Besides, it’s been a while since the siblings got to see each other for more than two minutes. 

He finishes his lab work twenty minutes later. That’s when he decides to ask if she arrived at the campus safely in another text before texting Jihoon the situation. 

**Baby Shark (du-du-du-du-du)**

_Is she with you?_

“Spencer!” Someone calls out his name and he looks up to see a group of female classmates from his next class approach him. One of them has a friendly hand on the back of JiWoo’s shoulder. _This is what potential incident I was thinking of!_ “We found your sister lost in the lobby.” The one with pretty red hair (Wonwoo thinks her name is Chyenne. Or it could be Amelia. He’s not sure.) explains, a kind smile spreading across her lips when making eye contact with Wonwoo. JiWoo makes her way to his side, clearly shy and overwhelmed by the strangers knowing exactly who she is. 

“Ah, thanks,” Wonwoo returns the smile, appreciating that someone was looking out for her. There were a few times he did talk with them at the beginning of the semester when introducing themselves. They’re the only few he actually can tolerate in class and feels somewhat comfortable with, so he might have shared a photo or two of his sister when they talked about family. He supposes they have a strong memory. “Do you think Professor Knowles would mind if I brought my sister to the lecture?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, he’s pretty chill!” One of the other girls grin. “Want me to ask for you?” He quietly nods, grateful that they’ve picked up on his social anxiety. 

“Thanks, Emily,” he manages to say as they begin to head to the lecture hall. JiWoo follows the group of adults like a little duckling, earning coos from Wonwoo’s classmates who try to make her feel less anxious by bringing her forward to walk with them. Wonwoo has full trust in them but he admits he was a little worried about them coming on too strong for JiWoo’s liking. She’s not really the talkative type, nor is she outgoing. She’s quiet and introverted, much like him. His classmates strike up a conversation with his sister who manages to respond here and there, slowly becoming comfortable with her surroundings. 

Upon entering the lecture hall, Emily asks their professor if JiWoo can stay, like promised. The teacher kindly agrees while asking that she doesn’t do anything that will disrupt the class later on. Wonwoo’s sure none of that would be happening. His sister is seventeen and well behaved, she’s not some loud obnoxious seven year old. They take their seats near the back and patiently wait for class to start. Other students seem to be running late, so their professor gives it more time and steps out to get some coffee from the student store.

Wonwoo notices JiWoo focused on the back of her right hand, touching and turning it like she’s searching for something. But what? He nudges her and asks if she’s alright. She simply nods, hiding her hands into her sleeves and hugs herself, falling back into her seat. Her stomach growls, breaking everyone from their conversation next to her. 

“Awh, honey, are you hungry?” one of the older classmates asks sweetly. Wonwoo promptly shoots Jihoon a text to come get JiWoo and feed her. He shows up a moment later, amused at the little gossip circle Wonwoo is a part of at the moment. They greet him with a cheery “Hi Luka!” and he waves with a smile before gesturing to JiWoo to follow him out of the room. 

“Bye Katherine! It was nice meeting you!” Wonwoo’s classmates all call after her. She shyly waves at them before latching to Jihoon’s arm. Then they disappear out the door. “She’s so cute!” They continue to gush, and Wonwoo joins them without any shame. He’s not afraid to express his adoration for his baby (not so baby anymore) sister. 

It’s kind of bittersweet when he thinks about it. He can’t believe she grew up so quickly. _Where did the time go?_ It leaves him a little sad when he notices the growing gap between them. _When did that happen?_ He’s been so goddamn busy, everything seems like a blur these days. 

Class starts when their instructor returns with his piping hot coffee in hand, a lid on to avoid getting _burned_.

* * *

Jihoon keeps JiWoo company while eating a snack at the small food court on campus before heading towards the parking lot and into Wonwoo’s beat-up black KIA. Her entire mood changes now that she’s in the presence of Jihoon. She asks him about his day and about his latest songs. She loves the way it gets him talking, more lively and animated, pure joy and sparkles radiating from his very being. It’s almost crazy to think he’s the same person who threatens to murder Soonyoung in his sleep if he leaves dirty dishes in the sink.

On the other side, Jihoon really enjoys talking with JiWoo. He finds they think alike and agree on a lot of things as well as sharing the same taste in food and music for the most part. She does tend to have a wider range in genres, and he admires that about her. Her ability to not be so picky with her music is something he couldn’t do, not with how his mind works. 

Sometimes he hates some of the songs he creates, never satisfied and disappointed. He can do better. He’s a perfectionist at heart but leave it to JiWoo to love all of his creations equally. She’s his biggest fan and he knows it. He’s fortunate to have someone like her around to help critique his songs. Even if she does find reasons to love it all, she still can provide good feedback. Overall, he views her as a supportive younger sister, something he’s never had before but appreciates nonetheless. 

Thinking about it now, for the last three or so days, he’s had a melody and lyrics stuck in his head. One that he doesn’t recognize as his own work but of something he caught JiWoo singing when she thought she was alone. That day (it was a Thursday he believes, but he isn’t so sure), he had returned home early and heard her on her keyboard piano in her room. He can still remember it so vividly too; how her voice filled the room, strong but gentle hitting every note perfectly. Her voice always hits him differently each time, depending on the song. But in the end, the entire feeling is the same; her voice eases his anxiety, washes it away like a warm shower. It’s like her voice is every single drug he has to take in order to feel _normal._

But there’s something about those lyrics that has Jihoon struggling in his memory. Where has he heard them before?

_We’re getting farther apart_

_Then I just need to catch you_

_So you won’t get far_

_That should be enough_

_I know I know_

_But it’s not as easy as it sounds_

_But after time passes_

_Will I be able to forget everything?_

_If you look back_

_I’ll listen to this song._

“Hey,” he says, after reminiscing the memory. His eyes still look faraway like he isn’t even there. “There was a song I heard you sing before…I was wondering if you could tell me the title?”

“Well, that depends.” She gives a nervous laugh. “I sing a lot of songs…”

Without a second of hesitation, he begins to hum and sings a bit of the lyrics in order to jog her memory. The tips of her ears turn bright red when she recalls she thought she was home alone when she sang that song. It’s a song that’s been long forgotten, a song scrapped by Jihoon a while ago. She’s not sure how to bring it up. How does one say ‘I stole your crumpled up music sheet that wasn’t finished and I finished it for you’ without sounding creepy. 

It doesn’t help that the song is titled ‘Don’t Listen In Secret’. 

“Sometimes I wish you didn’t sing such sad songs.” He snickers, noticing she’s struggling to answer him.

“Why?” she asks, pouting. 

“Because it makes me sad.” He pauses for a moment. “Really hits me, right here.” He taps on his chest. “You really should consider a career in singing, you’d move a lot of people with your voice.” 

“Tch, that will never happen, you know I have terrible stage fright.”

“You could be a masked singer.” He chuckles when she simply rolls her eyes, snickering about how he’s so persistent. As much as he’d love to see her pursue such a career, he also reminds himself that he can’t push his own dreams onto someone else. He’s sure JiWoo has other careers in mind that don’t involve her being loved by millions of strangers. The more he thinks about it, he does like the idea of keeping her sweet vocals all to himself. For his ears only. _That just sounds creepy._ He’s not a creep, he swears. 

He’s just a ball of anxiety and having her voice around calms him down enough to think things thoroughly. Especially when he feels like his relationship is currently on a rocky cove, a ship ready to smash into the rocks without a second care. Does he sink or does he swim to save his life?

“I just don’t think I have the same confidence like Ren does, he makes it look so easy!” JiWoo’s voice snaps him out of his deep thoughts. He lets out a small chuckle and reaches out to ruffle her hair a bit, to which she pouts at him, a hint of a smile on her lips. “I’ll just stick to being your guys’ number one fan, okay?” 

“Tch, whatever,” Jihoon snickers and goes back to using his phone while she giggles at his tsundere personality. Even after all these years, he still gets flustered whenever she says such things but perhaps it’s what’s kept him going, and for that he’s forever grateful. “What do you want to eat for dinner? My treat.”

“You spoil me too much.” She laughs. 

“You just know the right things to say to me, that’s all,” he says with a grin. That’s when he notices her looking past him and follows her gaze to see Wonwoo peering in from outside the driver seat window. All he could see was a dark figure thanks to the poor lighting and the glint of his glasses, like some evil character in a manga who’s up to no good. Jihoon nearly screams, clutching his startled heart. “Goddamn it!” The door swings open. 

“Get your unlicensed ass out of my driver seat,” Wonwoo says with a poker face. Jihoon simply groans while JiWoo tries to hold in her laughter when he mutters he’s unlicensed by choice, he has no desire to drive. Not now, not ever, and Wonwoo will forever be his personal taxi. Wonwoo looks offended but shrugs it off, because that’s most likely what will happen anyways and he honestly doesn’t mind as long as Jihoon pays him for his service. On the other hand, he’ll always drive his sister around for free, because she’s his Little UWU (cue Wonwoo cringing at himself).


	6. I Think I'm In Love Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [I Think I'm in Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VG_jUMq37cI) by Kat Dahlia

_ It’s too early to be alive.  _ Seungcheol groans as he steps out of the shower, his phone ringing at a glorious nine in the morning. Water is still dripping from his hair as he looks at the contact displayed on his phone. His strange older brother Siwon’s contact picture is of him grinning at the camera with a V pose, it’s too silly to look at. As if he’s not the same person that tries to exorcise his birds despite his birds not being possessed. Looks can be deceiving as they say. Sometimes, Seungcheol wonders if Siwon is the one possessed and in need of exorcising. That he was just talking about him last night worries him that his brother has eyes everywhere now, and there’s no telling what he’s about to endure once he answers the call. Just as he’s about to answer, the call stops and he stares in silence. 

“I mean…Whoops, I was in the shower, you know?” he mutters to no one in particular, glancing at himself in the steamy mirror with a sheepish chuckle. “I’ll just call him back in a bi—” Suddenly the phone starts ringing again in his hand, startling the living daylights out of him and he frantically tries not to drop his phone into the toilet. He’s shouting as loud as his ‘demon-possessed’ birds while his hands flail in a futile effort to keep his phone airborne. By some God sent miracle, he manages to catch his phone, sighing in relief before carefully holding it upright and answering the call. “Uh, hey, sorry I missed your call the first tim—” He flinches when he hears his brother screech into the phone. 

“I forgot that I had a client coming in Cheollie!” Siwon exclaims, clear panic in his voice. 

“Wait, what?” Seungcheol says, looking at the phone as if it grew another head, maybe it’s the phone that’s possessed. Damn, he should have just let it fall down the toilet. “How is that an issue!?” 

“Seungcheol, this client is coming in twenty minutes and I’m  _ naked _ ,” Siwon retorts, refusing Seungcheol any room to argue. “I need to just panic goddammit! Quick, what should I wear!?”

“How should I know!?” Seungcheol quickly debates whether or not to hang up on his insane brother but that wouldn’t be polite. “Just wear something! Robes or whatever!” Siwon doesn’t reply, still screaming at the other end.  _ He’s definitely possessed. _ With that, Seungcheol simply hangs up, not wanting to freeze his nipples off in the cold air. He loves Siwon, don’t get him wrong, but sometimes Siwon is just too much. Especially on Seungcheol’s day off and at nine in the morning. He groans, placing his phone down on the counter and is about to finish up in the bathroom, when his phone pings, scaring him once again. 

“Yah, can’t I just have one moment of silence and serenity!?” he yells at the smartphone as if it’s the root of all his stress. If he could just silence the damn thing, he would. But he can’t, not when he has a demanding job that requires him to come in on short notice whenever there’s a break in the many cold cases. He groans, covering his face before letting his hands drag down, causing an unsightly appearance in the mirror that nearly startles him again. He drops his head in defeat. The only thing he’s looking forward to is seeing Jihoon in a bit. That’s the only highlight of his day it seems like. 

Running his hand through his wet hair, he finishes his morning routine and searches through his closet for something nice to wear. Despite the pair dating for five years now, Seungcheol still wants to dress nicely for Jihoon. Even if on some nights, they just lounge around in sweatpants and pizza stained t-shirts. Seungcheol pulls out a light pink dress shirt and chuckles at the memory of it. Jeonghan had gotten it for him for the very first job interview Seungcheol had. It’s much too small for the detective now, but it fits Jihoon perfectly (if by perfectly he means the shirt is massive on the younger man). There are some things that one should keep to themselves, and whatever Seungcheol is thinking of is one of them. 

He’s still a disorganized mess when he stumbles downstairs and into his kitchen where his two birds are already up and about. They look at their owner expectantly as Seungcheol goes through the messages on the answering machine. His hands work swiftly as he makes himself a nice hearty breakfast for his two birds. But one of the messages catches his attention; one about Seungkwan and his truancy. The boy has missed school for the last three days and this is the fourth. Strange, Seungcheol just heard Seungkwan leave this morning. Maybe he’s hallucinating?

His phone rings again as he stirs his oatmeal (something Jihoon loves mocking him for but eats himself). He doesn’t get scared this time, finally alive, alert, and ready for anything that comes his way. Simply sighing, the detective picks up the phone. 

“So,” Jeonghan says, there’s some kind of loud pop music blaring in the background. “You busy today? Wanna save me from my terribly boring job?” Seungcheol can almost picture him leaning against one of the store counters like some part-timer bending the rules about no calls during their shift.

“No,” Seungcheol replies, rubbing his tired eyes. Even on his days off, it’s still ridiculously busy. The life the man lives is quite unpredictable, despite being blessed with the ability of foresight, it’s stupidly ironic if he does say so himself. “I’m meeting Jihoon for lunch today. Plus, if you and I get together, all we’re going to do is get drunk.” He grimaces at the many times he has woken up on Jeonghan’s living room floor with a massive hangover. 

“I’m offended that you think so lowly of me,” Jeonghan says, his voice bordering on dramatic as he relays one of his many woes and sorrows. “Well as long as you use protection, I’m one proud mother. Bye.” He hangs up curtly; something Seungcheol should already be accustomed to but isn’t. Groaning, he lays his head down on the kitchen table, resisting the urge to slam his face in it, like the cute kitty sticker Jihoon likes to use in their chats when he’s stressed.

He hears his female bird Woozi hop over and begin to preen him. Seungcheol wonders if it’s humanly possible for Jihoon to get pregnant.  _ I doubt it. _ He snickers at himself for even thinking such a thing. Of course not, and if Jihoon was here he’d smack Seungcheol over the head with a slipper. 

He lets out another inhuman noise before lifting his head up, allowing Woozi to preen his face. “I know Woozi-ah,” Seungcheol says, rubbing his bird’s soft head. “What do you think I should do?” Woozi doesn’t reply, continuing to preen her stressed owner as if he had gotten some food stuck on his nonexistent feathers. Once she’s done, she simply stretches her wings and chirps out a satisfied noise. Similar to how Jihoon would let out a battle cry when he’s done composing a stressful song. He knew Woozi has always been Jihoon’s bird ever since he brought the pair home. Maybe he’s like S.Coups - a bird who falls in love with someone who has a fiery temper. 

He sits up in his seat and offers a piece of carrot to Woozi - something she graciously accepts - and pets her head again. 

“Thank you Woozi-ah,” he says, getting up and doing a bit of stretching to release some of the tension. Woozi doesn’t reply, simply too busy protecting her piece of carrot from her mate as he swoops in to nuzzle her. “Don’t steal her carrot S.Coups!” 

“Mine!” S.Coups squawks out, spreading out his wings and bobbing his head a couple of times before smacking his face into the counter. All the owner could really do is stare before turning with a tilt of his head, muttering that he’s not going to say his bird is possessed and head upstairs to get ready for the day. From all the way up in his bedroom, he can hear S.Coups chirping up a racket. When he returns downstairs, both birds have migrated to the living room, both of them staring at their reflections on the television screen while playing a little game with the other ‘birds’. 

“I’ll see you guys later!” he calls from the foyer while tugging on his thick army boots. As he closes the front door, he hears the same warning S.Coups always screams out whenever Seungcheol leaves. 

“Be careful, be careful!”

* * *

The second Gigi steps into the classroom, dark, straight black hair covering her panda-like eyes, Chan thinks he has found himself a new best friend. Or rather, a best friend in this god-forsaken school. She takes a seat next to him, eyes instantly boring their way into Chan’s skull. He stares back before awkwardly scooting closer, sharing his textbook with her. She simply nods in appreciation and leans in close - her shampoo distracts him since all he could think about is apple juice and how his uncle stopped buying him so much. Stating some sad excuse of ‘it’ll rot your teeth’ or something like that, Chan wasn’t really paying much attention. 

“I am Gigi.” Her voice scares Chan out of his apple juice addiction thoughts, causing him to blink a bit. Her English sounds rough around the edges, smoother than his but still, her accent is noticeable. “Let us be friends.” 

“I’m Chan,” he says, nodding. “Is this how becoming friends work?” 

“That is how it works in movies.” She flashes him a toothy grin, her sharp canines glinting in the shitty lights of the classroom. “And I trust movies.” As the morning classes continue, Chan grows comfortable with the witty banter he and Gigi engage in. It’s as if the pair have been friends for years instead of being friends for only a mere couple of hours. However, the serene and carefree lightness doesn’t last forever because the second the lunch bell rings, the bullies from the other classes are hanging outside of Chan’s classroom. He sometimes wonders if fourth graders have anything better to do than pick on defenseless second graders. 

He ducks his head as he heads to his locker, ignoring the taunts of the older students. Gigi’s soft hand snakes her way into Chan’s and she loops his arm around her. 

“You are going to show me the best place to eat lunch,” she says. “This is what friends do in the movies.” 

“You watch many movies,” Chan retorts, grinning when she hip checks him in annoyance, a smile on her face. She tugs him away from the horrid fourth-graders, ignoring their silly cat-calls as Chan stumbles over his untied sneakers (he never liked tying them, too much hassle in his own humble opinion). Gigi soon launches into a conversation - one that may or may not involve a farm filled with rare birds - as one of the fourth graders’ long, lanky legs trip the two students. As Chan falls, his precious gaming device (the one where he’s so damn close to beating the mega boss) tumbles out of his backpack. The metallic blue device skids across the dirty floor, stopping right in front of the leader of the bully pack. 

His eyes grow wide as the boy bends down, picking up the gadget. 

“I don’t think you’ll be needing this,” the larger fourth-grader says, pocketing Chan’s gaming device. “Thanks for the early birthday gift.” Chan watches in utter despair and horror as the bully continues to walk down the hallway without a goddamn care in the world. And it had to be done when he finally made a friend. That might’ve been a factor in his actions later on, or perhaps it’s because that gaming device is the only thing he has left of his dad. Scrambling to his feet, he leaves Gigi. 

His sneakers squeak on the floor as he uses all of his body weight to slam into the much taller and bulkier boy. The boy stumbles into the wall, the gaming device falling out of his pocket. Chan scoops it up quickly, holding it close to his chest as the kid shakes out of his stupor. 

“You’re dead meat, pipsqueak,” he growls out, his chubby hands reaching out, swinging blindly as Chan sidesteps the hulking giant. Not thinking, the smaller six-year-old does something he never thought he’d do; he shoves the bully into a semi-full trash can and books it down the hall. His hand reaches out for Gigi’s and he drags the young girl with him. Not once looking back.

* * *

The sound of Elvis Presley playing on the old jukebox brings back the nostalgia of living on the military base in Shibuya, Japan. Jihoon can recall listening to his parents sing along to  _ Jailhouse Rock _ as a toddler. He hasn’t heard that song in years, only remembering it the second he walks into Love Letter - a small diner next to Carat Cafe. The memories of his parents slow dancing in the kitchen have Jihoon wishing he could have a romance like that with Seungcheol (but the more he thinks about it, the more he cringes internally from how stupidly cheesy it sounds). A person in a booth by the jukebox raises their hand, waving lovingly at the pink-haired lad. A soft endearing smile spreads across Jihoon’s face as he makes his way over. 

“Have you been waiting long?” Jihoon asks, shrugging off his thin coat. Seungcheol shakes his head, pushing a mug of that delicious mocha towards the younger. Jihoon graciously accepts, taking his first sip of that good shit, he can already feel the energy radiating through his body.  _ I live once again. _ He snickers quietly at his own thought like the caffeine has brought him back from the dead after the stressful few days he’s had on campus. Senior projects can be blood pressure rising sometimes. 

“Just long enough to get coffee for the both of us,” Seungcheol replies, bringing his own mug to his lips. The younger hums a noise of agreement, relishing in the sugary caffeinated drink flowing through his body as he gazes at the menu. The song on the jukebox switches from Elvis to Cyndi Lauper’s  _ Time After Time _ ; another song of heartfelt nostalgia for the younger male. His parents still have the videos of him as a toddler, trying to belt out the lines along with Cyndi, only for his two-year-old self to stumble over the words and fall into a fit of giggles. Childhood was a simpler time, one Jihoon wishes he never let go of. Maybe then he wouldn’t be fitted with a plague of anxiety or late-nights trying to quell his destructive thoughts. 

“What are you thinking about?” Seungcheol asks, his voice smooth like rich chocolate on a cold marble slab. It’s one of the few things Jihoon holds onto in order to keep from self-destructing into insanity. The older is his rock that keeps him grounded when the universe is against him and tries to suck him up into the black hole of absolute chaos. He knows it sounds silly to say that, given rocks don’t stand a chance against a black hole, but he’ll argue that Seungcheol is something out of this world and could totally survive a black hole. 

“Nothing,” Jihoon replies with his poker face and sips on that good shit. There’s a moment of silence before his expression falters and he sighs. “Everything.” Seungcheol merely hums in response as the song on the jukebox changes again to something Jihoon doesn’t really know too well. He knows the artist is Madonna but the song? Not so much. 

“Jihoonie,” Seungcheol says, breaking through the nasal voice of Madonna. Thank god, Jihoon doesn’t know how much he could take of her screeching. “Did you remember where we’re going tonight?” The shorter man freezes, mug halfway to his lips and suddenly he doesn’t feel all that hungry anymore. Did he forget another important date? No, no, the rational portion of Jihoon’s brain thinks. This date seems spontaneous, out of the blue, not like the one they’re currently on; that one has been planned for weeks in advance. It’s kind of a tradition for the pair to sneak off to the first place they went together as a couple. Yet, Jihoon can’t help but wonder if he’s ever stood Seungcheol up before. His memory gets worse in states of extreme panic. 

“Why?” Jihoon finally says, lowering his mug. It bothers him that Seungcheol would ask him that right after asking what was on his mind. It’s like he changed the topic, like he didn’t want to listen to whatever’s stressing Jihoon out this time around. Despite not being exactly as open about all his troubles and worries, only opening up a few times over the past few years - it still hurts when his invisible issues are brushed off like it’s just a normal thing now.  _ Maybe I’m more of a liability now. _

Seungcheol simply blinks, a bit confused. “Because you texted me a couple of weeks ago telling me you wanted to celebrate something. Did I get the wrong date?” Jihoon freezes, eyes growing wide as he whips out his own planner and flips through the worn-out pages. His heart pounds violently in his chest as the anxious bile rises up in the back of his throat. In big red letters, the word ‘Project Meeting’ screams out at him, and underneath in purple letters is ‘Date with Seungcheol’. Jihoon’s hands begin to tremble, shaking violently as he tries to re-read the words. The date has to be wrong, no way in hell did he schedule a romantic dinner date at the same time as him meeting up with his music composition partner (not to mention him trying to design an entire three-hour long concert on top of it all). He almost throws up at the table, his stomach churning as sweat pours down his back, making his shirt sticky. 

_ How did this happen?!  _ Suddenly, his chest constricts around him. He’s going to die. 

“Jihoonie,” Seungcheol says, his voice suddenly closer. Jihoon doesn’t take in how close the older is now. He jumps when he feels Seungcheol’s arms wrap around him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “It’s okay. Just breathe okay?” 

Jihoon gasps a bit, air getting stuck in his throat. His lungs are screaming at him but his mind isn’t cooperating. His mind stubbornly keeps still, stopping the air from coming in. Around him, the diner stops being crystal clear, black dots decorating the area as Seungcheol’s temper chocolate voice tries to pull him back to Earth. When did the sky start to fall around him? When did everything go so wrong? Is he even here in the present anymore? 

“I-I-I messed everything up Cheollie,” Jihoon manages to stutter out. “I-I-I di-di-didn’t realize that they were on the same date. I didn’t notice and now everything’s messed up—”

“Jihoonie.” 

“I-I-I’m go-going to waste your time and you’re going to hate me—”

“Jihoonie.” 

“I don’t want you to hate me, but I messed—”

“Jihoon!” Seungcheol’s voice plunges Jihoon back into the present as he feels the older’s fingers wipe away the tears that unconsciously roll down his face. And  _ You’re Still the One  _ by Shania Twain is playing in the background; forcing Jihoon to remember the day Seungcheol proposed. Right here, in this diner, with this exact song playing. He remembers thinking to himself how the older is going to break up with him. Panic rushed over him as Seungcheol avoided his gaze and fidgeted in his seat. A year of dancing around each other and a year of being together meant nothing to him as it did Jihoon. 

But, Jihoon’s mind has always been his worst enemy. Taking an innocent situation and twisting it into something that doesn’t exist. 

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his face into Jihoon’s hair (probably greasy and dirty from lack of personal care). Why does Seungcheol love Jihoon when Jihoon is such a mess? “We still have tomorrow. Plus, your school is more important. You want to graduate this year right?”

The younger nods. “Will you be there at my graduation?” Jihoon asks, wiping his face with the back of his sweater. “I’d like it if you were there.” Vulnerable has never been a word in Jihoon’s vocabulary; a rare sight to see for anyone except Seungcheol. Seungcheol knows Jihoon like the back of his hand, every inch of him where there are no more secrets between them anymore. 

Jihoon reaches over and covers the elder’s hand; a soft gesture even for the ice prince - one that’s normally reserved for moments like these. “Okay, thank you.” Seungcheol can’t help but break out into a childish grin and place a quick kiss on Jihoon’s nose; laughing all the way to his seat when Jihoon complains. His laughter proves to be infectious, causing Jihoon to crack a rare smile and an even rarer giggle (something that isn’t  _ that  _ rare for Seungcheol, but he laments that he’s just a special human). 

It’s times like these that Jihoon desperately craves - the simplicity of sharing a meal in an old diner while the jukebox plays  _ Eternal Flame  _ by The Bangles. There are so many times he wishes this never ends because he isn’t ready to return back to the harsh reality of the world. 

* * *

Chan and Gigi rush into the massive office building, hurrying past the receptionist (who makes a poor attempt to stop the younger students) and slamming his finger into the ‘up’ elevator button frantically as he looks over their shoulder. Gigi holds onto his hand and squeezes in reassurance as the pair waits for the elevator. What seems like an eternity the stupid elevator opens. Without hesitation, Chan throws them inside, slamming his finger to the thirteenth floor and closing the door on the other student rushing towards the two six-year-olds. For a moment, Chan lets out a relieved sigh, looking up at the ceiling as the elevator makes its way up. 

“Will we be okay?” Gigi asks, holding up his gaming device. He takes it from her and stuffs it in his pocket. 

“Thank you,” he says, before shrugging at her question. “I think Uncle Hannie help us. I hope.” They dash out of the elevator the moment the door opens, avoiding the various models and designers milling around the office. In their panic, Chan grabs onto the first person he recognizes, swinging Junhui around in front of the children, almost knocking the massive pile of papers onto the ground. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Junhui says, feeling his body swing around like a rag doll. “What’s going on!?” 

“Uncle Junnie, we in trouble!” Chan shouts, hiding him and her behind the taller man. “I standed up to a meanie head, now we gon’ die!” Junhui looks down at his boss’s nephew and pats him on the head, secretly proud of the youngin finally standing up for himself after seeing him rush into Junhui’s apartment with bruises on his arms and tears in his eyes begging the Chinese man to teach him some self-defense moves. 

That pride fades the moment the elevator door opens, causing the three of them to shriek and dash into Jeonghan’s office, slamming the door with intense force. Chan chucks his and his friend’s backpack into the corner of the room and hurries under his uncle’s desk, tucking their small bodies there. 

“Don’t tattle on us plewse!” Chan whispers to his uncle’s assistant, who nods and heads back out onto the floor. The moment the office door opens, Junhui is attacked by nothing but hectic chaos on the floor. There’s a group of editors (the scary female ones, led by second head editor Nana) holding onto what seems to be a very disgruntled elementary schooler as he attempts to scream and kick his way out.

“Oh no you don’t,” Nana snaps, holding onto his ear. “Not when we’re approaching the deadline. I swear to god if this kid  _ ruins  _ this shoot, I’m going to make sure Jeonghan sues this kid, this kid’s parents, and this kid’s  _ ancestors _ .” Junhui decides it’s not a good idea to intervene unless he wants to die today by the hands of the head editor. He turns as the kid continues to scream and thrash underneath the hold of Jungah, the unofficial (official) leader of the editing team. She holds him firmly by both of his arms from behind as she instructs Lizzy to call for security. _ Crisis somewhat averted, _ Junhui thinks as he heads to the marketing team on the other side of the floor. The bundle of paperwork feels like a sack of bricks in his arms the longer he holds it. 

He stumbles into the marketing meeting, frantically knocking on the door only to have Rena answer it. She steps back, grabbing half of the stack of paper and placing it on the table. Jeonghan stands at the front, chatting with Nayoung as Minghao lingers nearby. 

“Boss,” Junhui gasps, placing the stack of paper down. 

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan shifts away from Nayoung, a pained grimace flashes across his face when he sees all that paperwork. Nonetheless, he walks over to the assistant and takes half the stack. “We’re bouncing off some ideas,” he says, motioning to Nayoung. She pushes up her glasses and peers down at her tablet.

“So,” Nayoung says, walking over; her heels clicking against the tiled floor. “You know that hot new singer, Ren, that’s been killing the charts lately?” Junhui blinks, staring at his boss who merely shrugs. Right, he had forgotten that Jeonghan listens to nothing popular on the radio, remembering all the times he heard the blond belt out Whitney Houston in the office. Then, he looks at Minghao (the only other person who may have a vague idea of what’s going on). All he gets is a look that says ‘Don’t look at me’. When Junhui shakes his head, Nayoung merely sighs, closing her tired eyes in exasperation before continuing her idea. 

“So,” Jeonghan says, idly flipping through the stack of contracts. “What you’re saying is,if we can get Ren to model our clothing, we can begin expanding in the East?” 

“Well, he just started his career a little over two years ago and somehow shot up to the top in a matter of months!” Kyulkyung pipes up from the back, waving her phone as she scurries over to the group. “Him wearing our brand would look so good!” On the phone screen, all three men could see someone with a sharp yet beautiful and cute face and large soulful eyes that peer innocently into the camera as long black hair frames his delicate face. Minghao raises an eyebrow muttering about how people that pretty can’t be human while Jeonghan’s eyes light up the moment he sees the celebrity on the screen. 

“Oh!” Jeonghan says, leaning closer. “There’s a kid that lives in my building that really likes him.” Staring at the clock on his mini watch/computer screen Jeonghan makes up a pathetic excuse to leave the meeting. He quickly rushes out of the meeting room, his hand doing that little wave that tells the marketing team to continue what they’re doing. Junhui looks at the marketing ladies, his mouth hanging open a bit before Eunwoo decides his and Minghao’s presence are bothering them. 

“Leave boys! This is a girls-only party now!” Eunwoo says, shoving Junhui and Minghao out. “Calm down that commotion outside will ya? It’s distracting us.” With that, the short-haired girl closes the door on their faces. 

“Is… is that normal?” Minghao asks Junhui. Junhui doesn’t know how to answer honestly because he’s just as confused and slightly offended. “Whatever. I should get back—”

“Um, Minghao,” Junhui says, stopping the younger in his tracks. There’s a slight shiver that races over him. And for a moment, Junhui forgets how to speak when Minghao looks at him, waiting for the older to say something.  _ Fuck.  _ Not when Minghao is looking like Junhui possesses the world in the palm of his hand. “Uh… Do you wanna come over tonight? For dinner?” 

“Why?” 

“To catch up.” That answer seems to satisfy Minghao as he gives a small smile before nodding. Junhui could feel his heart fluttering deep inside his chest - a brand new awakening. For once, he feels a bit more alive than ever before. Minghao’s fingers linger on Junhui’s shoulder a little longer than needed but it’s enough to send sparks over his body. 

“I’ll see you after work then,” he says before heading down the hallway and disappearing where the photos are shot and edited. Junhui could feel himself breath for the first time in forever. He turns and heads back to the editing department, thankfully the screaming has stopped and when Junhui gets to the other side, he understands why. There stands the kid who caused havoc earlier, his mother scolding him before apologizing to the staff. Blinking, Junhui turns as the scene resolves itself; unwilling to deal with Chan’s issues. He already has to deal with his boss and the company’s issues, he doesn’t need more white hairs. With that in mind, he continues on his merry way, heading to his office to finalize some contracts and send some lovely emails.

* * *

The door opens with a  _ thud,  _ scaring a napping Chan awake (Gigi continues to sleep past the noise), and for a moment his mind heads straight to the worst possible scenario: that douchebag Jeffery has found a way to get inside Uncle Jeonghan’s office and is currently sniffing around for Chan’s blood. His entire body goes into shock as he huddles into his new friend, arms wrapping around her. But the familiar voice of his uncle brings Chan out from his hiding spot, startling the blond. 

“Jesus—!” Jeonghan shouts, tripping over his own two feet and tumbling onto the floor. “C-Chan!? What are you doing here!?” 

“Hiding,” Chan says, rushing over to his uncle. “I standed up to a meanie head, now we gon’ die.” Jeonghan blinks, looking at his scrawny nephew as a feeling of pride explodes in him. He reaches up and gives the six-year-old a pat on the head. 

“Did you make him cry?” 

Chan shakes his head but a shit-eating grin spreads across his face as he kneels down. “He took my 8DS and throwed into the trash. I dunno what happened but… he fell in.” 

“You didn’t put a curse on him, did you?” 

“... No… no, I didn’t, Uncle Hannie. I promise.” He flashes another semi-innocent smile, only for the CEO to give him another pat on the head. 

“That’s my boy, so mind telling me why there’s a gothic lolita porcelain doll napping under my desk?” 

“I made new friend!” The boy beams while waking the doll up. 

“It moves!?” Jeonghan’s terrified expression is priceless when Gigi opens her eyes and crawls out to stand. “Did you curse it and now it lives!?” He feels like his brain might explode trying to comprehend what he’s witnessing.

“Uncle Hannie, don’t be rude! Gigi is human!”

“Buon Giorno, I am Gigi.” The little girl does a little curtsey in greeting before staring up at Jeonghan with her big soulless eyes. It unnerves the man, he doesn’t believe she’s human, but he supposes he has to take his nephew’s word for it. He walks around his desk, paging his secretary to bring the children some snacks to eat before he pulls out his phone, sending Aaron a text to come pick up Chan and his cursed doll pronto.

* * *

Being in a studio room may be seen as claustrophobic to some but to Jihoon it’s paradise - no noises to distract him from his work, he’s around the one thing he loves more than Seungcheol and everything is self-made. Does it mean anything is good? Not really, but Jihoon has such a keen ear for detail that it makes up for the duds that sometimes come out of his studio. As he tinkers with the keyboard, the door opens and Wonpil - his partner for a composition class they have together - wanders in. His hair looks disheveled as if he just rolled out of bed (and maybe Wonpil did, Jihoon knows he did) and his backpack is slipping off his shoulders. 

“Yo,” Wonpil says, flashing his signature peace sign and a grin. “What’s shakin’ bacon?” 

Jihoon blinks, unsure of why bacon is shaking. Maybe he’s sleep-deprived - which he is, don’t get him wrong - but nothing Wonpil is saying makes any sense during their meeting. Jihoon could feel himself falling asleep at the studio table as his partner drones on about the assignment. There shouldn't be a flutter in his heartbeat as Wonpil goes over the song one last time, listening to the demo composition but there is. It’s like anxiety has decided that today is the day to show itself, expose the torn flesh to the world. Jihoon can’t help but wonder what’d happen if the demo fails, what happens if it isn’t good enough. 

_ I’m not a perfectionist but…  _

Even listening to it now, despite knowing it’s the best work he could do without his partner, his brain is able to point out all the little flaws that expose themselves. When a sharp note hits him, Jihoon winces. His exhausted eyes looking over at Wonpil wondering if the elder heard it too. If he did, he sure does a great job hiding that. Sweat begins to form at Jihoon’s hairline - his eyes flickering as a series of flashcards zooms through his mind, each one asking the same question in different degrees of anxiety.  _ Did he notice that? Oh my god, why isn’t he saying anything?  _

“Jihoon,” Wonpil says, spinning in the producer chair, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes are slightly unfocused as he smacks his lips a couple of times. “What’s the song about?” 

“Uh,” Jihoon says, suddenly at a loss for words. What does the other mean? Is this some kind of test? What is the ulterior motive? Does Wonpil think Jihoon is some kind of joke - a young, bright-eyed undergraduate who’s in over his head? He nibbles on his lower lip, hesitating on answering. His mind works overtime, trying to figure out the correct answer; there has to be one right? “Why?” He sounds so stupid, but he squishes that thought down and waits for Wonpil to reply. The elder doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting out a non-committable grunt. 

“The song,” Wonpil finally replies, still looking up at the ceiling. “It feels too safe, but I guess that’s expected from you.” A jolt of ice courses through Jihoon’s veins, his fingernails digging into his thighs. Is he really that predictable now? He can hear his rapid heartbeat in his ears as all the blood rushes to his face. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jihoon forces himself to ask, inhaling sharply as he pinches the bridge of his nose as a way to calm down. His cheeks feel hot as he wills himself not to cry. He chokes on the critique because it’s not something he expects to hear when he thought he pushed the boundaries on his work. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep causing him to suddenly tear up, a dull rage brewing under his ribcage. Or maybe it’s the sheer frustration he had while creating this composition; so much so that he almost threw his mix board out the seventeenth-floor window a couple of days ago. 

“You just fall back on something safe, you know?” Wonpil sits up properly, raising his arms over his head and rolls his neck. “Ever since meeting you - what, three years ago now? - you just produce soothing ballads that sing about heartbreak. Where are your songs that you write about your fiance?” How can Jihoon admit to his partner that he does write them but they get so weird, so difficult that all the pink-haired can do is scrap them or push them away? Is Wonpil implying that Jihoon doesn’t care about his fiance? 

_ Get it together Jihoon.  _

“I… I have them. They’re just… I mean…” He stumbles over his words, struggling to think coherently. It isn’t like he doesn’t  _ want  _ to show off Seungcheol to the world, there’s just this inherent fear he has if he tries to. The fear about people whispering about how Jihoon isn’t enough for the older, how Seungcheol deserves someone better than someone four years his junior, and more affectionate. Jihoon has never been the type to openly tell Seungcheol that he loves him but it’s okay, Seungcheol said he didn’t need constant verbal confirmation of Jihoon’s love. Yet there are days when Jihoon observes the couples around him for inspiration when he feels inadequate. He sees couples clinging onto each other, occasionally sneaking a small kiss here and there, but all of it is just so loving. He can’t help but wonder if he should be more affectionate towards Seungcheol. They are engaged after all. 

Wonpil’s lip stretches out into a wide grin. “Hey, you should try to write a party song.”

Jihoon blinks. “What? Why?” 

“I mean, it seems like all you write is love songs. Do you write anything besides love?” Wonpil waves his hand nonchalantly. “I mean, love is amazing and stuff but where are the party songs?” 

“Uh… Party songs… Like the shit you hear on the radio?” 

Wonpil laughs, throwing his head back as his cherry, light-hearted voice echoes through the recording studio. “Okay, fair. But, let’s do an uplifting song or something like that. Whenever you write love songs it’s like you’re nothing without your fiance.” He laughs again, packing up his laptop. Jihoon sits in his chair, ears burning as the door closes. He takes one look at all his sheet music, the many sleepless nights he had working on them, and promptly tosses them all into the recycling bin. 

A sense of worthlessness washes over him as he marches through the university hallways, his hand wrapping around his backpack straps tightly as his eyes burn holes into the tiles below. Is he really that useless without Seungcheol around? Jihoon had thought about it before - questioned if he could exist without his significant other; the answer should’ve been obvious, but for his delusional mind, it isn’t. For so long he’s wondered if he’s even worth anything to Seungcheol but with Wonpil saying that, it presses something cold into Jihoon’s chest. 

Whenever he looks into Seungcheol’s life, the older has everything put together without him. He’s walking so far ahead without Jihoon and all Jihoon is doing is dragging him down. He’s just an extra weight that Seungcheol doesn’t need. And yet, it seems like Jihoon desperately needs him which makes it all the more pathetic. 

* * *

One of Kai’s earliest memories (and his favourite) are the memories of when his parents were back together - way before they moved to AL-1. Kai thinks he was four or five when they first took a trip to the beach. Back when his dad was a rising musical star, barely able to get casted and his mom was a university student with a part-time job at a flower shop. He can remember the soft sand under his feet, the sound of the crashing waves of the tides and the salty smell of the ocean breeze hanging above them. His mom, a pretty lady with blond hair, would always stand ahead of them, turning back whenever the sun hits her at just the right angle. A large sun hat would obscure her face as the breeze blows strands of her hair into her face. 

Dad would take a picture and print it out whenever he could - hanging them up on the walls of their small two-bedroom apartment. After that trip, however, Kai struggles to remember anything else. His dad got scouted by a musical agency (Jellyfish Productions) and the headquarters of that is located in Sector 5 in AL-1 City. The move is what started the endless fighting - Mom wanting to move back east to Puma City while Dad is forced to stay. Kai could say that they tried, but that’d be a lie. His mom never tried, if she did she wouldn’t have told Kai she didn’t want him. He can still hear the acid in his mind sometimes. 

“ _ I don’t want him! Take some responsibility for once, Taekwoon! _ ” The door slammed with such force that the picture of Mom at the beach (the prettiest picture of her) fell from the hook. The large cracks in the glass is a startling reminder of what just happened, and the scariest part is that Kai doesn’t remember feeling an ounce of sorrow for the loss of his mother. Instead, he helped his dad pick up the fragmented pieces of the picture frame and pack away that part of their lives. They have been living in Home Apartments for seven years now. 

The morning light from the east flutters into Kai’s bedroom through a tiny crack in his curtains. Blearily, he blinks upwards momentarily forgetting the day when he realizes how insanely  _ loud  _ the apartment sounds. Muffled by the closed doors, Kai sits up and leans towards the sound - it sounds a lot like screaming but he can’t be sure. Tentatively (while holding his special stuffed penguin) he creeps out of bed and tiptoes out of his bedroom, heading towards the living room. 

“Taekwoon.” The sharp, sugary voice of Kai’s mother has the teenager frozen at the door of the hallway. Neither one of his parents has noticed him yet as he just stands there, staring at his mother. She looks older (as to be expected) and her blonde hair isn’t blonde anymore - it’s dark brown. Unlike the mother he knows, the woman standing in his living room is a total stranger. “You can’t do this to me. I’m Kai’s mother!” 

“Yes, this is true,” his father says, voice exhausted from another late night at his musical. “But you were also the one who told him you don’t want him. You are not fair to him.” 

“I wasn’t in the right state of mind during that time,” his mother pleads, bringing out the crocodile tears. “You can’t keep me away from my only son. How is that fair to me?” 

“You don’t call him on birthdays, Christmas, or care!” Taekwoon’s soft voice suddenly spikes in volume, anger lacing the edges. Kai can’t seem to move, his legs frozen in place as his father towers over his mother and yet, she still looks scarier. “You don’t have rights, not anymore. Go!” His mother, the stranger, stands her guard in the living room; silence surrounding them all. Kai can still remember the fights, the ones that are silent are the scariest ones. He closes his eyes and imagines what will happen next. His mom will give his dad the cold shoulder, locking him out until his dad breaks down and apologizes for something he didn’t do wrong. 

She’ll forgive him for that moment, but then the cycle of endless arguing would continue (something he’s never missed). 

A lump forms in his throat, choking him to the point he can’t breathe.  _ Why is she back? Why didn’t she come back earlier? Why did she pick now to come back?  _

“I’ll figure out a way to get custody back,” his mother spits out. “You’ll see.” She turns on her heel, only for her to freeze in her tracks. Kai’s eyes grow wide as his mother’s scornful face turns into one of an angel. Her arms wide open, waiting for him to give her a hug. When he doesn’t, she walks up to him and wraps her skinny arms around his frame. He’s a foot taller than his mother. The hug is awkward as Kai isn’t sure if he could hug her back - it’s like hugging a statue. 

“M-Mom,” he croaks out, a forced smile spreading across his face. It’s wobbly but his eyes dart to his father in the background. Taekwoon makes no effort to separate the two of them, instead, he just stands there and watches with those soulful, feline-like eyes. There’s still a little bit of glittery eyeshadow on his left tear duct. 

“You’ve gotten so tall,” his mom murmurs, rubbing his back like she used to do. Kai nearly breaks down right then and there, the painful prickle of tears already attacking the corners of his eyes. He missed her so, so much. So much so that he can’t express it in words. “What’s wrong baby? Why are you crying?” She reaches up and wipes away the stray tears that roll down his cheeks. Suddenly, Kai feels like a little kid again, running into his parents’ room after a series of night terrors. 

“I don’t know,” Kai mumbles back, dipping his head down bashfully. Another stray tear drips down and onto the stuffed penguin close to his chest. “I think I just missed you. That’s all.” 

“Well, I would stay longer but your father—” she starts to say, before cutting herself off. “Sweetie, I think we might be seeing each other more often.” She gives Kai a pat on the shoulder, brushing past him and towards the front door. The teenager turns around, watching his mom walk out of his life for a second time. Once the door closes with a soft  _ click  _ Taekwoon slumps down on the sofa, a brown manila envelope sitting on the ottoman. 

“What’s that?” Kai asks, walking closer to his dad. His dad wordlessly hands the document over, his mother’s pretty handwriting etched out in the front. He carefully tears it open, pulling out the papers, only to drop them in shock. “Um, I have to get to school. I’ll see you tonight.” Kai takes a quick step towards the hallway, closing his eyes and picturing the comfort of his own room. His body suddenly vanishes with a puff of yellow smoke left behind before he reappears in his bedroom. His hands tremble as he pulls out the clothes for the day, mind still remembering the large font at the very top of the document. 

Unable to face his father, he teleports himself out of the apartment, unable to handle the suffocating atmosphere that lingers within the apartment. Cowardly, yes, but it’s all Kai can do in order to save himself a little sanity.

* * *

Jeonghan’s phone buzzes against his glass nightstand, startling him awake from his impromptu nap - one he didn’t mean to fall into. But you know that feeling when you lie down for ten minutes (at least that’s what he wanted) but then you get too comfortable and the next thing you know, three hours have passed? Yeah, that’s what Jeonghan did. He’s just happy Chan is staying over at Junhui’s place for the night where he has lots of friends, namely Jihoon, Wonwoo, JiWoo and Soonyoung, to play with. If not, Jeonghan would’ve woken up to the apartment probably on fire at this moment. He grabs his phone to see who he should thank right now for waking him up, a nice champagne bubble of emotions fluttering through his soul when he sees a message from Joshua. 

**Joshua (Soulmate)**

_ Hey, have you had dinner yet? _

_ I know I said I’d pay for our next lunch… _

_ But we can have dinner too, right? _

_ I’d love to see you for dinner tonight if you’re not busy… _

_ If you aren’t, then it’s fine! Next time! _

**Me**

_ I’m not busy at all.  _

_ I’ll see you soon _

_ :) _

As Jeonghan gets ready for the evening, he receives another text, asking him where he lives (which he happily sends). He tightens his tie and turns to Miss Ava lounging on the massive king-sized bed. “What do you think?” he asks his cat, only for Miss Ava to flick her tail idly and yawns. “I disagree, I think the tie works with my shirt.” He lifts his pale purple tie, debating on whether it’s too much or not, before chucking it off. Who wears a tie to a date anyways? He slips on his autumn trench coat and gives Miss Ava one last pet before leaving. 

“Now you be good,” he says to his cat, who purrs under his fingers. “You know your kitty door is the way out in case there’s a fire. I’ll be back later.” With that, Jeonghan slips his house keys into his pocket and heads down to the lobby. He feels like a high schooler again, where he’s crushing hard on the cute barista instead of the head cheerleader. Checking his phone, he sees another message from the barista telling him that he’ll arrive soon. 

Soon could mean anything, a ball of nerves rushing out of nowhere and attacking Jeonghan as he gently paces about the lavish lobby (much to the judgment of the security guard).

“Got a hot date?” the secretary Tiffany asks, fiddling with her pink feathered pen. A cheeky grin on her face as Jeonghan flashes her a knowing smile. “Just make sure to use some protection.”

“I don’t think we’re at  _ that  _ level yet Tiffany,” Jeonghan replies. The revolving door whirls to life as Joshua pushes his way in, his eyes bulging out at the mere sight of the lobby. Truly it’s an impressive architectural feat done by Korean architect Kye Beomju; a master at his own work. Jeonghan’s face lights up when Joshua spends a little time just staring at his surroundings, stunned in awe by the high ceilings and rustic look. The CEO waits just a few minutes before startling the barista out of his daze, gleefully cheering when a red blush creeps up Joshua’s cheeks. He gives the older a shy wave beckoning Jeonghan over like a lighthouse during a tropical storm.

“Good evening, Soulmate,” Joshua says softly, shyly fidgeting with his hands. “Shall we get going?” 

“Lead the way!” Jeonghan grins. “I’ll follow you to the end of the world and maybe beyond, Soulmate.” Joshua sputters at the comment, ears turning a bright red as he dips his head down - light brown bangs covering his eyes as he mumbles something. Behind them, Jeonghan can hear Tiffany break out in laughter as Jeonghan gives her a wave before heading out into the chilly September evening. 

“Okay, it’ll be a long walk. Try to keep up,” Joshua says. The sun sets as the pair heads down the sidewalk, casting an orange hue over the city. They’ve walked into a painting straight out of an art gallery -  _ Lovers on Pulpless Orange Juice  _ is what Jeonghan would title it. It sounds just the right amount of pretentious without being too quirky. 

“Where’s your car?” Jeonghan asks, hands in his own coat pocket. The guest parking lot is a few meters in the opposite direction. In AL-1 it’s rather important to own a car - as the highways are unforgiving to pedestrians. 

“I don’t have a car,” Joshua explains. “So, I just… walk or bus everywhere.” He pauses, lips turning into a frown before facing Jeonghan with eyes full of panic. “Do you not like walking? Am I stupid for assuming you’d walk with me to places!?” 

“No, no, it’s not that!” Jeonghan says, his hand touching Joshua’s arm soothingly. “I was just curious, that’s all.” It’s a good thing he put on his best walking shoes and not his leather loafers that cause nothing but blisters on the soles of his feet. Sure, Jeonghan grew up not having to walk everywhere he went but if it’s a way to spend more time with his lovely soulmate then who is he to complain? A couple of blocks into the walk, his feet begin to ache, slowing him down significantly. Strange, he walks around his office quite a bit so why is walking down the sidewalk so energy-draining?

“Jeonghan,” Joshua asks, his hand touching Jeonghan’s. “Are you alright? Do we need to take a break?” 

“I’m alright,” Jeonghan musters up with as much confidence as he could. “Just… not that used to walking around this much.” 

“The place is only a few more blocks down.” 

“As long as we’re together, I don’t mind the pain in my feet.” Joshua laughs, smacking the older in the arm. The barista’s laugh is like music to Jeonghan’s ears, a sweet melody that flows into beautifully melted white chocolate pouring down a truffle ravine. True to his word, a few more blocks later, they arrive just as the sun is barely over the horizon, tossing them into a Shirley Temple. 

“Isn’t the sunset beautiful?” Joshua breathes out. “I could watch it all day and never get bored.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Jeonghan manages to reply, stealing a glance at Joshua’s face in the deep orange glow.  _ This feels so romantic now, like it’s an actual date. _ Jeonghan’s heart begins to flutter, a red hot wash of emotions pouring down over him. What are they now, he wonders as Joshua leads him into the tiny restaurant situated in the alleyway. A part of him wishes they were something more, but another part is hesitant - scared of plunging into the unknown that lurks in the shadows of a honeymoon like relationship. The last thing Jeonghan ever wants is to mess this up and they fall back into awkward strangers - where Jeonghan can hear Joshua’s laugh everywhere he goes. 

The little bell above chimes, telling Jeonghan not to worry. Fate will step in when destiny’s plans fall through. 

* * *

Mingyu thinks that having seventeen floors in a building is a bit excessive, but that’s what happens when you live on the rich side of the city. Mingyu feels a little out of place with his flour stained black pants and worn out t-shirt as he rides the elevator up. A lady sharing the same elevator eyes him before walking out onto the thirteenth floor. Mingyu keeps going up. When he’s up there, he re-reads Minghao’s text message. It’s the apartment on the right; 1702. 

When Mingyu knocks on the door, what he doesn’t expect is a tall, tan Chinese man holding his younger sister in his arms. The man’s tie is loosened and his dress shirt is hanging out of his dress pants haphazardly. 

“Oh, you must be Mingyu,” the man says, a hint of an English accent lining his words. “Minghao told me to give you her.” He hands Gigi off to Mingyu and waves goodbye at the little girl. She flashes a smile and waves back. 

“Um…” Mingyu says. “Where’s Minghao?” 

The man gives him a blank look. “You probably don’t want to know.” And with that, the door is softly shut - an indication for Mingyu to go home and not dwell on what Minghao might be doing. (If anything, it’s probably getting laid. Lord knows Minghao needs it).

On the walk home (twenty minutes because Mingyu didn’t bring the car), he couldn’t help but think about the accidental encounter with WonWoo. How soft his lips were and how comfortable it was to lie on his chest. But at the same time, he couldn’t forget the glare his own sister gave Mingyu - as if Mingyu had been accused of a crime he didn’t do. He wonders how he’ll be able to face JiWoo again without her ripping his head off. In fact, he gets so lost in thought that he almost steps onto the road and into oncoming traffic. His sister looks at him, eyes narrowing as he instantly gets a scolding from the little girl. Most people have enough pride not to apologize to their baby sister, Mingyu is not one of those people. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. “Do you miss Naples?”

“Sometimes.” Mingyu nods, his hold on her small hand tightening. “But I’m happy you’re here now~!” he gushes and smiles down at her deadpan expression. 

“Yes, I am happy I am here now.” Gigi cracks a small smile. “I made a friend today because of movies. You also made many friends.”

“Well, you know your brother is quite the charmer, right?” He grins, his canines glittering under the streetlight. 

“Please stop talking. You are—embarrassment.” The girl sighs while her brother simply chuckles, completely unfazed by her words. He gets enough roasting from work and Minghao that he’s becoming immune to it. As they get closer towards where the city center bleeds into the slums, Gigi suddenly stops walking. The aura around them thickens like fog but it should be normal. After all, AL-1 is known for odd weather patterns (courtesy of Mingyu of course).

“What’s wrong?” 

“We are being followed,” she whispers, tugging Mingyu’s large form down to her level. As many people know, if one is being followed, it is best not to attract any attention to yourself. However, Mingyu is not most people, thus leading him to scoop his baby sister up and booking it down the sidewalk towards their apartment. After a few blocks, Gigi assures her brother that they’re not being followed anymore, letting him breathe easier. 

“Oh, you’re out pretty late?” A gentle voice startles Mingyu. (Despite what his sister said, no, Mingyu Kim  _ does not  _ scream like a little girl). Joshua appears from the shadows of the apartment’s alleyway, a black bag of trash. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just came down to toss some trash.” He steps over to the dumpster at the side of the building and tosses it in. 

“Oh, I forgot it’s trash night.” Mingyu knocks on his head a few times before wondering if the weird butcher man that lives on the third floor remembered to throw his trash out. Mingyu kind of hopes he forgets since the last thing the baker wants is to open up the dumpster to the smell of rotting meat. 

“Who is that in your arms?” Joshua asks, his eyes sparkling with curiosity? Or maybe it’s fear, Mingyu isn’t sure as he walks closer to the little girl in Mingyu’s arms. 

“Oh! This is my little sister Gigi,” he says, pulling out her arm to wave at his neighbour. “Gigi, this is Joshua, he’s a barista at the coffee shop a few doors down from the bakery I work at.”

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” Joshua sticks a hand out to shake hers only for the little girl to flinch away and bury her head into the croak of Mingyu’s neck. How odd, Gigi isn’t normally shy around most adults, and Joshua isn’t known to have kids hate him, so why is she acting this way? 

“What’s the matter?” Mingyu frowns. “Don’t you want to say hi?” 

“It’s okay. Don’t worry,” Joshua says, a pained smile on his face. “Sometimes meeting new people can be scary when you’re little like that. Maybe next time when it’s brighter out, we can meet again.” Joshua then looks at his watch. “Oh my, look at the time, I should head in. Have a good night you two. It was lovely to meet you, Gigi.” With that, the barista heads into the building. Mingyu bites his lower lip, wondering why his sister is behaving so strangely.  _ Maybe she’s just tired?  _ Maybe that’s it. 

Mingyu heads inside and towards the stairs as his sister rubs her temples with her fingers. It’s as if her brain is overstimulated with too many interactions earlier. Poor thing, it must’ve been intense today. He hip checks the door open, and sighs. The apartment looks like it was this morning - a bit messy but that’s a given since there are three men living in the house. As much as the mess in the living room bothers him, his priority is to take care of his sister. Send her to bed and have her rest. Messes like these can wait till tomorrow to be cleaned up - same with preparing everyone’s lunch. But Mingyu is blessed with a little power known as cloning. So what would have taken maybe two hours is done within forty minutes. While being a contractor can suck most of the time; not being able to control those strange powers. Mingyu feels happy that this comes in handy most of the time. 

With Minghao staying the night somewhere else and Seokmin’s bedroom door already closed, Mingyu decides it’s probably best to head to bed. But not before he makes himself a nice midnight snack of two bags of chips, three frozen burritos, and a loaf of homemade Italian bread (yes by himself, you read that right). He heads to his room for the night, careful about not waking up his sister, lying on a shitty futon they got from the tenets on the fourth floor. As he slips into his own bed, he feels the covers lift up and Gigi crawls in. 

She doesn’t say anything as she lies there, arm around her stuffed plague doctor toy. He instantly melts at the mere thought of how domestic everything feels despite the distance they’ve had. He shifts them around to be a little more comfortable, covering them with his blanket before drifting off to sleep together. Like the good old days.


	7. Say What You Wanna Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Brave](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJYpZKU81lc) by Sara Bareilles
> 
> Trigger Warning: Homophobic language
> 
> The mature warning and trigger warning have been checked for this chapter (AFF) for fair warning that homophobic language is used during a character’s dialogue, and how that can be triggering for some people. It’s also for those who may be triggered by the dialogue of characters arguing and fighting about sexuality and preferences. While stating this might be slightly spoiling an upcoming event in the chapter, we like to be safe than sorry and not risk triggering anybody who enjoys this story, we don’t want to blindside any of you.
> 
> \- iheartkpopXD (AFF)

The HALA base located on the outskirts of Sector A-5 looks, for a lack of a better word, like shit. It’s as if no one decided to clean the damn place up since Yeosang and San left for their missions. Now, returning for a brief update makes Yeosang remember why he volunteered for this mission in the first place (even if he thinks his assistant manager is an absolute ditz). San, however, doesn’t look as disgusted as Yeosang does. But in all fairness San has always been a little odd. 

“Welcome back,” the leader Hongjoong says, appearing from seemingly out of nowhere. He’s wearing that ugly cheetah print shirt under a dark brown floral silk jacket with a faux fur trim. His long wooden cane (made out of wenge wood) taps along the tiled floor of the base. “Either you’re here to tell me an update or you fucked something up. Which one is it Yeosang?” His eyes look bored with the interaction already and neither one of the agents has spoken yet. Yeosang grits his teeth, holding back the urge to punch Hongjoong in the face for his never-ending snide comments. But just as he’s about to retort with something equally snarky, San speaks up. 

“I have an update,” San says, his voice monotone and robotic, like he’s talking to a government official as opposed to a leader of a rebel group. “I have substantial reason to believe that my assistant manager Joshua Hong is the missing contractor that we have been looking for.” A moment of excitement flashes across the bored look on Hongjoong’s face, the elder remaining impassive as San continues reciting his reasoning. Yeosang resists the urge to roll his eyes at the matter, knowing exactly who San is talking about. 

Joshua Hong is nothing more than a spineless fluke - no way in hell can he be the elusive Subject 00017 that disappeared years ago. The man looks like he could barely kill a fly without crying over the insect. 

“Is this true?” Hongjoong asks, leaning against his pretentious cane as he does so. Even if Hongjoong doesn’t have a limp, he always seems to be leaning against that damn cane. Yeosang wants nothing more than to break it over his leader’s head. “Yeosang, can you confirm?” 

“I… I cannot sir,” Yeosang answers, his own cold demeanor betraying him when Hongjoong walks up towards them. The echoes of his loafers bounce along the hollow walls of the base. It’s normally enough to make Mingi or Jongho shit their pants but not Yeosang - he knows much better than the two rookies. Hongjoong stands near them, the smell of whiskey on his breath as he takes a deep inhale, letting the air surge through his veins before speaking. 

“I want you both to remember the motto of HALA,” he states. “Don’t forget what we stand for.” He then turns to San, eyes trying to bury deep into the younger’s soul. But Yeosang knows Hongjoong is just as scared of San as everyone else. There’s something uncanny about him that makes Seonghwa avoid him like the plague, that sometimes makes Yunho cry and Mingi faint from fear. San Choi is a scary man, one that shouldn’t be taken lightly and no one knows why. 

“I promise you,” San says, a wicked smile spreading across his face. One that could make bears run in the opposite direction. “I’m never wrong in what I do.” He takes a threatening step closer, forcing Hongjoong to lift his cane up, stabbing it at San’s throat. With one push of the button hidden in the circular handle at the top, a thin Swiss blade would come shooting from the tip and straight through San’s gullet. But that crazy bastard San doesn’t seem scared at all, still grinning crazily at Hongjoong. 

Yeosang isn’t close enough to hear what San said to Hongjoong that makes him drop his guard and slink back. Yeosang could only swallow audibly, eyes facing forward as Seonghwa - the second in command - lingers in the corridor, his white teacup hanging precariously on his long fingers. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says, looking just as impassive as Hongjoong does. “You have a call.” 

Hongjoong clears his throat. “Excuse me.” His cane taps against the tiles once again, fading with every step he takes. Yeosang looks at San, not saying a thing - only following when the younger turns to leave. 

“What the hell did you say to him?” Yeosang hisses once they leave the main hub of HALA. No eyes or ears listening in. 

San’s response is the reason why Yeosang places that cold exterior up. If he didn’t, he’d be eaten alive by San Choi. “I told him to do it, I told him to kill me. When he does, I’ll simply phase through the knife and take a bite out of his neck. If I die, he comes down with me.” Yeosang doesn’t respond to that, hurrying out of HALA as fast as he could but it doesn’t take a genius to know that San is lurking behind. Just waiting patiently for his moment to strike. 

* * *

Jeonghan lets out a massive yawn ten seconds too late, as the second he’s semi-awake, Chan ambushes him. Launching himself from the foot of the bed and up onto the blond’s chest, all that six-year-old weight coupled with the running start Chan had, lands on top of Jeonghan, causing the older to let out a wheeze. 

“Uncle Hannie,” Chan says, with his child-like innocence. Honestly, Jeonghan couldn’t be mad at his nephew if he tried. Chan knows how to use those puppy dog eyes against him (which totally isn’t fair if you ask Jeonghan). “You have a friend at the door. I let him in.”

“Wh—Chan! What did I say about letting—” Chan quickly climbs off Jeonghan and scurries out into the living room. Jeonghan, without much care to his current state of wakefulness, darts out after his nephew. As he rushes out, he may or may not have run into the wall several times before making it to the living room. Jeonghan skids to a stop. 

“Oh,” Joshua says as his body is being flung forward to protect the child from the blond’s wrath. “Good morning!” He sheepishly lifts up a clear plastic bag. Jeonghan can see several containers inside and the smell of breakfast foods wafting through the air. His stomach rumbles embarrassingly as his cheeks flush a grapefruit pink. 

“Um… What are you doing here so early?” Jeonghan asks, still trying to grab Chan from behind Joshua’s lithe body. “I thought you had to work.” 

Joshua being the patient man he is, simply stands there as Jeonghan tugs his nephew from behind the barista. “Oh, um, little Chan here called me yesterday asking if I wanted to ‘hang out’.” The blond pauses and stares at the child - who's still dressed in his little dinosaur onesie - he raises an eyebrow at the kid. 

“You’re lonely,” Chan states matter-of-factly. “I don’t want you to be like Gigi’s brother! He’s sad because his love doesn’t love him back.” Jeonghan could feel a blush rising from the base of his neck towards his hairline. Is that what he looks like to his young nephew? A lonely man who needs someone in his life? It’s not to say that he _doesn’t_ appreciate Joshua’s presence - it’s nice to see him look around Jeonghan’s penthouse apartment as Chan shows him around; blabbering about god knows what. 

A warm body presses against his legs as Miss Ava has finally graced her princess self to the world. He bends down and gives her a nice scratch behind her ear, listening to her purr at the gesture. 

“Miss Ava,” he says. “Do you think I’m lonely?” The white cat stares at him, bumping his hand when he stops giving her the love and care she deserves. He lifts her - noting how heavy she’s gotten; which is utterly strange since she hasn’t been eating breakfast like normal - and carries her towards the living room. He places her on the sofa nest thing that Chan made for her during the week. 

“I think you should get ready for the day,” Joshua kindly says from his position on the ground, surrounded by Chan’s toys. “Better hurry, eggs don’t taste good when they’re cold.” Jeonghan nods mindlessly, heading towards his bathroom as Chan explains the different kinds of dinosaurs he has. Joshua occasionally chiming in with a simple ‘Ooh’ and ‘Wow’. It takes exactly seventeen minutes for Jeonghan to realize how stupidly domestic this all is. Staring at himself in the mirror, his realistic mind tells him that’s ridiculous. Why would a single, free man like Joshua want someone like Jeonghan, tied down with a white cat and a kid? A lump of self-doubt forms within Jeonghan’s stomach. 

Domestic or not, there’s no way for someone like him to be that interested in someone like Jeonghan. But when he steps back out into the living room, the smell of breakfast is overpowering and those self-doubts disappear. The scene before him looks unreal. Three plates of breakfast (homemade by the barista himself nonetheless) sit on the barely used dining table, as Joshua takes an empty seat near Chan, and Chan impatiently swings his clothed feet. 

It feels all too familiar, like Jeonghan deserved this kind of fantasy. Swallowing once more, he makes his way and takes his seat across from Joshua. The feline-eyed male just flashes a cheery smile as Chan stares at the two adults. 

“Uncle Hannie,” he says. “I’m hungry.” 

“You can eat,” Jeonghan replies as Joshua mutters a quick grace under his breath. 

“But you aren’t eating.” Chan isn’t wrong and not to be outsmarted by his ridiculously smart six-year-old nephew, Jeonghan picks up his fork and begins to shovel the food into his mouth. The very first thing that attacks his senses is how flavourful the eggs are - it’s a unique combination of tastes that Jeonghan can’t quite seem to place. It tastes like sodium but there’s a slight hint of sweetness lingering in the after taste. The bacon, on the other hand, is lean and oil-free - not as crispy as one might expect. 

“Ah,” Joshua says, daintily wiping his mouth. “I used turkey bacon instead of pork bacon, I hope that’s alright.” 

“Bacon!” Chan exclaims, apparently not caring what kind of bacon it is as long as it’s bacon. Ah, the joys of being a naive six-year-old, Jeonghan misses those days. 

“Well, if Chan likes it then so do I,” Jeonghan replies, stuffing his mouth with the fluffy pancakes. All Joshua can do is smile back, a hint of red decorating his cheeks. Breakfast has always been a hectic time of the day for Jeonghan, but for once he could feel his body relax - calm down from a long week of work. It’s moments like these he cherishes, even if they never last very long. 

Once breakfast is over, Jeonghan kicks Joshua out of the kitchen, claiming that it wouldn’t be right for the guest to clean the dishes. It’s a passive-aggressive battle between the two men when Chan (that little loveable brat) tugs on Joshua’s pants leg and asks him if he wants to read a book with him. And who would say no to that adorable face? A sadist that’s who and Joshua Hong is no sadist. So, he allows himself to be swept away by Chan’s adorable face while Jeonghan cleans the dishes. 

Out in the living room, Jeonghan’s cat lays perfectly still in that little fort Chan built for her. A mountain of pillows surrounds the cat while a teddy bear guard sits inside and is where the cat is currently resting on. 

“Miss Ava likes handsome men,” Chan says, plopping down on the soft, plush rug. “But she likes the teddy bear more cause he’s her royal guard.” 

“Is Miss Ava a princess?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to him. 

“No, she’s a queen. A queen needs a guard or else.” Chan crawls onto Joshua’s lap and opens the picture book. 

“I suppose you’re right.” Joshua settles against the front portion of the sofa before he starts reading aloud. As he reads, his vision blurs slightly - stumbling over the words and unable to keep a sentence going. His head begins to ache and little black dots appear in the corner of his eyes. _What’s going on?_ Joshua struggles to keep his mind focused as it seems like he’s fading in and out of consciousness. His hands tremble as he grips the book tighter but little Chan doesn’t seem to notice the way Joshua is struggling to read _Cinderella_. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, asking for a break. “ _Cinderella_ is my favourite story,” he says, eyes closed. It feels like there’s a battle for control within his mind and the demon that lives inside is winning. “I love how Cinderella gets her happy ending and the step-sisters don’t.” 

“Cinderellie’s sisters are bullies,” Chan states matter-of-factly. “I don’t like bullies.” There’s an edge to Chan’s voice, one that sounds like the kid knows all too well what getting bullied feels like. 

“Are there people who pick on you at school?” Joshua asks, his voice slowly slipping away into something unlike his own. The black spots reappear once again, obscuring his vision. He needs to get more sleep, that’s what he concludes. 

“Yeah.” Chan tugs his dinosaur hood odd. “They’re mean. I don’t like them. I wish they wouldn’t get their happy ending.” 

Suddenly, Joshua’s mouth curls upwards into a sinister grin, teeth exposed and all - like a cat stalking its prey. His eyes jerk open and a battle between grey and brown takes hold of his irises. He peers down at the young boy who still continues to talk about the bullies he encounters at school. 

“Maybe,” Joshua says, his voice scarier and deeper than the normally soft-spoken barista everyone has come to love. But, once again, Chan doesn’t seem to notice. “You should punish them.”

“How do I do that?” 

“Have birds peck out their eyes. That’s what happened in the original Cinderella.” Chan turns back, deep brown eyes darkening ever so slightly with flakes of gold shining through. It’s almost impossible to tell which is his iris and which is his pupil. Chan’s mouth spreads into a wide grin, hands clapping together. 

“Peck out their eyes, blind forever right?” Chan giggles, covering his mouth. “So mean, big brother Joshua.” 

“But they were mean to you, were they not? As they say, treat others how you’d like to be treated,” Joshua says back. Chan nods and pretends to be a bird beak, peeking something out with his nose before dissolving into giggles once again. Joshua’s mouth twists back into a fond smile, petting the boy on the head and ruffling his hair. A surge of energy springs forward and shoves the grey in his eyes back down. Why is Chan giggling like a serial killer all of a sudden? 

“Big brother Joshua,” Chan says, his large eyes brimming with happiness. “Thank you. I feel better now.” 

“Um,” Joshua stutters out, confused as to why he’s being thanked. “It’s not a problem?” Chan settles back down and Joshua continues the story, already nearing the end. When Jeonghan finally finishes the dishes and his other household chores, Joshua decides to take his leave - his eyes feeling glassy as his brian melts out of his skull. As he steps out into the hallway, he hears Jeonghan call for him, a bright smile on the blond’s face. 

“Come back anytime!” Jeonghan says. “You’re welcomed in my apartment!” With that, he hands Joshua a spare key (for whenever Chan needs a buddy and no one can come to see the little boy) and gives the younger a nice firm pat on the back. Joshua smiles and nods, closing his fist around the stainless steel key, feeling it burn his skin as he heads towards the elevator and out into the quiet streets. 

* * *

There’s an unread email sitting at the top of his inbox the minute Seungcheol walks into his office. The flashing one shines against the sea of open messages, forcing Seungcheol to read it, hoping it’d be spam. But instead, he sees a short message from Agent Han and a massive PDF file attached. **_Delete this once you’ve downloaded it._ **He pulls out his memory stick and rams it into the dinosaur of a computer, watching it slowly process the new connection while simultaneously trying to download the enormous file. It takes the old computer fifteen minutes, enough time for Seungcheol to set up his personal laptop, remove his coat, get a fresh cup of coffee (courtesy of the youngest member of the force, Changkyun), and mingle with said officer. The moment he sees the file in his memory stick, he terminates the email, forcing it through three steps to remove his digital footprint. 

His office door opens and Chief Sohn walks in, carrying a new case file. “It’s a cold case from sixteen years ago,” he says in his low timbre voice. “Twelve people ranging from age thirteen to age thirty-nine went missing at around the same time and from different parts of the country. I know you’ll be able to figure out the connection.” With a reassuring smile, the older man leaves, gently closing Seungcheol’s door. This case file, unlike the one previously, is much thicker and as the dark-haired male skims through the facts, the file is much more conclusive than the previous. Eyes closed, he opens the file from Agent Han as he scribbles down notes from his new case. His laptop works overtime, pulling up the file. Ten minutes later, it’s fully loaded. 

Seungcheol’s eyes lazily scan the document, paying it no mind until a specific sentence catches his eye: **_Eighteen participants have been selected to participate in a life-changing scientific experiment._ **His eyes squint as he reads through the participants’ profiles - something about them causing an eerie shiver down his spine. Like a familiarity that he simply couldn’t put his finger on. The more he reads, the more the cold ghostly finger travels down his spine, sending tremors through his body despite the three layers he put on this morning. Swallowing, his eyes fall upon the second to last profile, the profile of a six-year-old boy. Frantically, he tears through his latest case, looking for anything on the mysterious six-year-old, but there’s nothing in his files. 

He locks his laptop, heading down to the cold case room. It’s a dark musty place where cases go to die and rot, utterly forgotten by the public but not by those who loved them. The light above flickers ominously as Seungcheol walks through the narrow space, dictated by massive shelves that tower over him. His critical eye scans every box, every file looking for that one missing profile within the stack. Suddenly, a small headache attacks him, flashing something into his mind; _tucked in between a red binder and a cardboard box (that reads Doe, J) at the very back of the room sits a small manila envelope, the file is small, thin compared to the others, but nonetheless, extremely important._ He heads there, his eyes scanning for a red binder and the cardboard box that reads Doe, J in black blocky letters. Just like his vision predicted, it’s at the back of the room with the oldest of the old cases. Reaching in between, Seungcheol pulls out the envelope, feeling the thinness of the file between his fingers. 

As he returns back up, he takes one more look at the room before closing the light and encasing the room back into everlasting darkness. 

Back up in his office, he opens the dusty file, pulling out what seems to be rotting papers - the words faded from age. Using a trick he learned from his time in the hidden archives of his old university’s library, he scans the document. 

**Double Homicide, 20XX**

**Residents of the quiet** (the words are too faded to read clearly) **suburbs woke up to a horrific discovery - the double homicide of Mr and Mrs (** the words are too faded to read clearly) **. There had been no sign of a break-in and nothing was stolen - however, detectives upon further investigation discovered that the couple had a six-year-old son** (the words are too faded to read clearly) **. Police have activated an Amber Alert in hopes of finding the missing child - whose case has been labeled “Kidnapped by a Stranger” and “Endangered Missing”. If you have any information regarding the murdered couple or their missing son, please call Detective Monk at 661-XXX-XXXX**

Seungcheol looks into the file some more, hoping to find more information but there’s nothing - no pictures of the victims, no missing persons report, nothing. It’s like someone is trying their damn hardest to erase these people out of existence and with no other choices, Seungcheol picks up the phone and dials the number. As it tones through, he looks through the profiles once more, making the connections in the descriptions. Seventeen connections have been made, except for the elusive Subject 00017 and Subject 00017.5. The line dies, an automatic voice telling him that the number has been disconnected. With no more leads, the young detective is left with no choice but to keep hunting through the archives. 

Licking his lips, he flips through his planner before tugging on his coat and grabbing his keys. Perhaps today would be a nice day to spend all his time in the library archives down in city hall. After all, something this big wouldn’t be swept under the rug so easily. All evidence has footprints somewhere, each one just waiting to be found. 

* * *

Last-minute call-ins are the worst, especially when you are trying to spend the majority of your day lazing around like Joshua was before a frantic San called him saying that Kyungsoo is out with the flu. Grumbling, he quickly changes into his work clothes, grabs his pink sweatshirt, and dashes out the door (almost forgetting to lock his apartment for the third time). It takes him ten minutes to run there, cutting his travel time in half. However, running towards work means you enter the establishment panting and trying hard not to hack up a lung in the process. San stands there, looking entirely amused by the situation. A shit-eating grin on his face as he watches Joshua drag himself into the back room and put on his apron. 

“How long is Kyungsoo’s shift?” Joshua heaves out when he gets to the register. San hands him a bottle of water, watching as Joshua downs half the bottle. 

“I dunno,” San replies, blinking innocently. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

“He’s not working today.” Joshua pauses and hurries to the schedule (something Jaehwan makes) and scans the hours. San is correct, Kyungsoo does not work today or tomorrow for that matter. Today is supposed to be Seokjin, coming in to cover for when San leaves. Joshua groans, head falling against the bulletin board. If that’s the case why in God’s name did the novice barista call Joshua out? 

“Because you’re my favourite manager!” San declares from his spot at the register. “Plus, I got lonely. Yeosang doesn’t want to hang out with me and Eunseo has already left.” He sticks his lower lip out into an adorable pout (one that rivals Chan’s puppy dog eyes if Joshua is being honest). The older barista merely sighs, running his hand through his hair. 

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll keep you company.” He trudges into the back and chucks off his apron before heading out and taking a seat at the bar. On Sundays, the cafe is normally dead - not many people wishing to be outside and getting coffee at one in the afternoon. It’s just not how life works. No matter, Joshua doesn’t mind the beautiful sunshine and the sound of the coffee grinder. 

“So,” San says, wiping down the counter. “How was your evaluation?” 

“Evaluation?” Joshua questions, not fully grasping on the younger man’s words. “What do you mean?” 

“You know, the one they did before assigning your mission. Did you pass? I bet you did, you’ve always been the best at those.” Like a speeding, uncontrollable train a sharp pain drills itself into the side of Joshua’s head, causing him to groan. The man dips forward, head in hand as he feels his brain muscles being torn apart by a drill bit. God, it hurts so much. He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead as a large hand grabs at the back of his neck. Looking up, he sees San’s face, twisted into a psychopathic grin; eyes flashing as poison continues to flow out of his mouth. 

“Don’t you remember the torture they put us through?” San asks, tilting his head. “They used to hook us up to these machines and test how much pain we could endure. I still remember having parts of my skin burned away. Don’t tell me you forgot.” 

A flicker of grey blips in Joshua’s eyes as his own mouth twists up into a sinister smile; hand reaching back and gently tugging San’s hand away. Joshua, then, reaches out and grasps the younger by the neck, fingernails digging into the flesh. 

“Missed me?” Joshua asks, drawing a bit of blood before dropping the younger barista. “I’ll be back soon, just you wait. But for now, keep it undercover. I don’t want any of your friends to get any ideas.” San merely nods, still grinning at his discovery when the flickers of grey disappear from Joshua’s eyes. Leaving the elder dazed. 

San quickly stands and continues working, pretending as if nothing happened. _I just have to be patient_ , he tells himself as Joshua asks him what happened to his neck. Lies roll off San’s tongue with ease as he gently touches the deep nail marks. It reminds him of the better time in childhood - when Jisoo was still around. _Jisoo knows what he’s doing and I trust him. After all, no one is allowed to hurt me the way he does._

* * *

The door to the Carat Cafe swings open with a pleasant _ding!_ as a trio of high school friends enters the small establishment. There’s an aromatic smell of coffee lingering in the air as Seungkwan looks around the place. Little cute tables scatter about the small dining room as the place is merely half-filled with customers. The majority of them are disgruntled university students that ingest too much coffee to be healthy and the other half is the police force - who spends most of their time staring at the coffee maker and wondering why it doesn’t make coffee twenty-four hours a day. 

“Oh…” JiWoo says, her shoulders deflating as she sees someone new working the counter. “It’s not… Joshua.” 

“The guy looks like that guy from _Zoolander_ ,” Vernon absentmindedly comments as he tugs his beanie over his ears. “Mugatu, I think.” 

JiWoo looks over at her friend then back at the new cashier. Seungkwan walks over and feels Vernon’s forehead. “Dude, are you feverish?” ask Seungkwan. “That guy looks _nothing_ like Mugatu.”

“Guess my brain is becoming a deep-fried banana,” Vernon says solemnly. “Speaking of bananas, I could really use one.” 

“I have macarons,” JiWoo says, holding the poorly wrapped box up. If Mingyu (aka. The Hot Baker) were there, this normally sophisticatedly wrapped box wouldn’t look like a third-grader trying to cut paper for the first time. What is up with all her favourite places suddenly changing staff to people who look like they torture animals as a hobby? She shudders, still remembering the blank, cold stare at the cashier gave to them when they walked into Aju Nice Bakery. 

Though the staff manning the cash register is new, he looks much nicer than the one from Aju Nice - almost having that stereotypical customer service approach. Even if his features are rather sharp and kind of intimidating in a way. She swallows down that bubbling anxiety that’s currently threatening to make an appearance in the most unfavourable way when she sees Joshua running up to the counter. He taps the new employee on the shoulder and says something, but the trio is too far away to hear the conversation. Whatever Joshua said, the new barista simply shakes his head. 

When Joshua steps away, that’s when she makes her move - walking up to the counter with ease and mild confidence as her friends trail behind. Vernon stares at the man at the counter, making eye contact with him. The other man, San from what his name tag says, suddenly flashes a wide smile. Someone, Vernon thinks it’s Jolene, whispering in his ear. 

“ **_Don’t trust the man wearing the uniform_ **.” 

“Oh,” Joshua says, a friendly smile already on his face. “Fancy seeing you here and who is your friend?” 

“I think we met before,” Seungkwan says, leaning over the counter and squinting a bit. “Yeah, we did. But, I’m Seungkwan!” He holds out his hand because that’s what polite people do when meeting new people for the second time, totally. But it’s clear to the teen that maybe their first meeting wasn’t as memorable. Joshua gently holds Seungkwan’s, shaking the young boy’s hand like it’s made out of glass. Perhaps it’s due to his clumsy nature that he’s scared of harming yet another customer. Or maybe, it’s the way Seungkwan’s hand seems to burn Joshua’s. Either way, he doesn’t hold on for long. 

“So…” Joshua says, twiddling his thumbs. “What can I get you three?” JiWoo with some confidence lists out all the drinks she needs, even going so far as to ask Joshua for WonWoo’s and Jihoon’s usuals. Panic starts to rise when the barista just blinks ever so slowly as if trying to dig around in his mental library for that exact drink. But given by the small chalkboard behind them, there couldn't be that many drinks on the menu, could there?

“What’s your brother’s name?” 

“Uh…” Her face turns white as she tries to think of which name her brother uses. Biting her lower lip, she absentmindedly plays with the loose ribbons on her pastry box. “WonWoo is his Korean name and uh… Spencer is what he uses at school.” 

Joshua’s eyes lit up at the name. “Ah, WonWoo and Jihoon. Right, right.” He gently hits the side of his head. “Silly me. My memory isn’t as good as it used to be. I’ll be right back.” He turns and heads towards the machines - the sounds of steamed milk now filling the atmosphere as JiWoo heads over to pay. But as they wait for the many drinks to be made, it doesn’t take long for Seungkwan to suddenly ruin the silence with his many, many comments. 

“Is that guy alright?” Seungkwan asks. “He looks really young to be having memory issues.” 

“Seungkwan!” JiWoo says, aghast. “You can’t just _say_ that when he’s so close!” Vernon plops down in a chair, resting his head on his hand as he listens to his two friends bicker. However, Seungkwan brings up a valid point: for a man so young (probably in his early twenties at the oldest) he shouldn’t be having such dire memory issues. In fact, there seems to be something off about Joshua as a whole but Vernon is much too tired to really think too heavily on the subject matter. 

Roughly five to ten minutes later, Joshua arrives at their table with all the drinks in a couple of cardboard drink holders and two bags. One has a large pink bow on it while the other has a large blue bow. He sets them down gently on the table. 

“How is your hand by the way?” he asks JiWoo, holding his own hand out to see. She places it into his, blushing at the very fact of the gesture as he inspects the back of her hand. No redness nor pain from the looks of it. Quickly, she pulls her hand back when she realizes her friends watching her with raised eyebrows and twin unamused looks. “It doesn’t look like there’s any lasting—”

“Joshua,” Seungkwan says, interrupting him by accident. “Are you Korean?” 

There’s a moment of silence before JiWoo slaps Seungkwan on the arm, harshly whispering how it’s rude to ask someone that. Joshua, on the other hand, looks perplexed, like he isn’t sure what he is. Vernon stares at him. Shouldn’t someone know their own ethnicity without having to think too hard on it or is Vernon going insane from the lack of sleep? Joshua seems to ponder on the subject matter a lot longer than he should. 

“I don’t know,” Joshua finally answers. “Um…” He looks over at the two bickering friends and nervously swallows. Vernon eyes him and through his sleepy haze doesn’t recognize the trouble Joshua is about to cause. “Are you two dating?” 

Time suddenly slows down as JiWoo and Seungkwan look over at Joshua. There’s a beat of silence before the pair break down in laughter. Joshua simply giggles nervously as he tugs his collar. Vernon sits up a bit and tugs his coffee out from inside the bag. 

“Well…” Joshua stands and brushes his apron down. “I better get back to work. It’s nice to see you again, JiWoo. If you see WonWoo just tell him to swing by. I’ll love to see him again.” JiWoo flashes him a smile, despite the bitterness that lingers within her chest. To be honest, she really doesn’t know how her brother is doing, but it’s not hard to guess given he’s a full-time college student. She’ll be sure to relay the message when she passes off her brother’s coffee (if he’s not too in the zone with his studies, that is). She gathers the drinks with Seungkwan and as the group makes their way out of the cafe, they hear the cashier call out to them. 

“You forgot your wallet!” JiWoo’s face turns red as she apologizes to her friends. Vernon shrugs, leaning against the doorframe and sipping his overly sweet coffee (the only thing that makes it bearable). The cashier flashes his friend a razor-sharp smile; one he never noticed before. It sends an uncomfortable chill down his spine as JiWoo walks back. She casually slaps him on the back, making him choke a little. 

“Vern,” she says. “You okay? You look like you just saw something scary?” He swallows the last drop of coffee, looking back at the creepy cashier before clearing his throat. 

“Uh, I’m good,” he says with a quiet chuckle. “Just tired. Come on, let’s go to your place before your brother’s coffee gets cold.” The trio walks down the cobblestone road, Vernon listening to his two good friends chatter as he drains the last of his coffee. However, that uncomfortable chill never really leaves Vernon; instead, it lingers underneath his skin. Bubbling out of sight and out of mind. 

* * *

The front doorbell rings, prompting Wonwoo to drop whatever he’s studying (something about microbiology) and poke his head out of his shared room and down the stairs. When no one else goes to answer the door, the biology student swallows down his anxiety and tiptoes down the hardwood stairs. Peeking through the peephole, he sees a massive figure standing out in the hallway. He meekly opens the door, a sharp-tipped umbrella in his hand - ready to knock a bitch out if needed. 

Imagine his utter embarrassment when Mingyu nearly gets whacked on the head with an umbrella. Wonwoo drops the offending weapon on the tiled foyer, his jaw-dropping. In Mingyu’s hands, all he could see was tupperware, like three massive containers of god knows what. Wonwoo hopes he isn’t planning to poison anyone. 

“Oh, Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, after lowering his massive cloth bag onto the floor. “Did I get the wrong apartment? What are you doing here?” 

“I could literally ask you the same question!” Wonwoo retorts, squinting a bit at the baker. His contacts are beginning to burn as he blinks away the tears. Mingyu leans in like the cloth bag and its contents are weighing him down. 

“Where are your glasses?” 

“I lost my glasses… again.” 

The taller blinks for a second, his eyes growing comically wide before shouting an indignant “How!?” Wonwoo rubs the shell of his ear, wincing from how loud the younger male could get. 

“Uh, I misplaced them somewhere and couldn’t find them,” Wonwoo reluctantly admits, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. He’s usually not that disorganized, but you could say he’s been having a tough week - his intrusive thoughts have been plaguing him non-stop for three nights straight. He hasn’t been able to get more than three hours of sleep each night without fear of God-knows-what coming at him. But, he isn’t about to tell Mingyu that. “I’m really forgetful like that sometimes. I think the stress of school is getting to me.” He lets out a nervous chuckle as Mingyu’s frown deepens, creases beginning to form on his forehead. 

“Do you need help looking for them?” The sincerity in Mingyu’s voice has butterflies fluttering in Wonwoo’s stomach. The gesture is nothing but kind and honest, something the raven-haired isn’t completely used to. His stoicism returns, masking his giddiness underneath. 

“No, it’s fine, I ordered a new pair already. Just waiting for them to arrive in the mail, but I’ve been stuck wearing my contacts that seem to just hate my eyes. That or I’m cursed.” He blinks a few more times before his face scrunches up and he shoves his hand into his pocket in search of his eye drops. Relief floods him as his eyes are moistened once more. God bless the man who created eye drops for everyone with the horrid dry eye syndrome. 

“Okay, that’s good. Um, by the way, would you mind helping me?” Mingyu asks, lifting up the cloth bag once more. “It’s really heavy and I promised Soonyoung he could have some of my leftovers.” Wonwoo nods, hand reaching out involuntarily towards the bag, his long, bony fingers gently brush against Mingyu’s rougher hands. 

A small shock of energy surges through their small encounter. Wonwoo wonders if it’s just his body reacting like how they describe in the romance novels, or if that spark of energy is something else entirely? Either way, he can feel his cheeks heating up from the contact. He grabs the bag, albeit a bit too forcefully, causing Mingyu to stumble over his two feet. The taller male ends up tumbling forward against Wonwoo and the next thing the pair knows is that they’re lying on the floor, in one of those accidental positions you see in Mangas or Animes. The bag is lying next to them as Mingyu's face is mere inches away from Wonwoo’s. 

It’s an awkward position, to say the least, with Wonwoo underneath Mingyu and his rather toned arms next to his head. If Wonwoo could instantly combust into flames like Jihoon does, he’s one hundred percent sure he’ll burn the entire apartment building down, but one thing he’d like to avoid is a massive sinkhole opening up and swallowing them whole (the one time out of hundreds he doesn’t want that to happen). Mingyu doesn’t fare any better, his cheeks turning a nice shade of red as he looks anywhere but Wonwoo. 

“Uh…” Mingyu says, not getting up for some reason. “I’m sorry, but… I think my shoelaces are caught in your door?” Wonwoo curses internally, constantly forgetting to remind Junhui to get someone to fix that. Plus, it doesn’t help that the foyer is extremely small for such a massive apartment, just barely enough room for two people to toe-off their shoes at a time. Wonwoo feels claustrophobic from how close Mingyu is as he squirms to try and get his shoelaces free. But it’s no use, it seems like the small gap in the floorboard is enough to wedge those laces in and stop anyone from moving. 

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo says, patting the giant puppy’s head. “Someone will be home soon, so they might be able to help us.” Mingyu just nods, resting his head on the older’s chest. Wonwoo can feel his heart picking up pace and wonders if Mingyu can hear it. Despite the situation, Wonwoo thinks it feels kind of nice being this close to another human. _I wouldn’t mind laying here like this forever._ An unfamiliar feeling of calmness washing over him as he allows himself to melt into the tiles. 

“What the hell are you two doing?” Wonwoo’s eyes suddenly jerk open (when did he close them?) and somehow moves his neck upwards. Standing in the doorway is his sister and her two friends, peering down at them. Seungkwan and Vernon look rather awkward, eyes shifting at anything but the two adults on the floor while JiWoo scowls at the sight. Wonwoo can’t tell if she’s disgusted by the idea of two guys being, well, whatever they’re being, or if she’s disgusted by the mere act of PDA. 

Wonwoo nibbles on his lower lip, trying to push away the teaching of his paternal grandparents. _Loving another man is sinful, WonWoo. Never do that unless you want to bring disappointment to your family._ So, he blurts out the very first thing that he thinks of, “It’s not what it looks like!” Wonwoo doesn’t know which hurts more, the fact he said that or the fact that Mingyu looks up at him with the most hurt looking expression in history. JiWoo doesn’t seem convinced, her arms crossed over her chest as Seungkwan helps Mingyu remove those trapped shoelaces. 

“Oh, is this your girlfriend?” he asks, the sorrow and disappointment lining the edge of his voice. God, just _hearing_ that hurts just as much as seeing that expression. “I’m sorry you found us in such a—”

“Gross,” JiWoo says, scrunching up her nose as Wonwoo’s too busy figuring out the entire scenario. He too wrinkles up his nose at the mere thought of dating his own sister. There has to be a law against that in the world. 

“That’s my sister!” Wonwoo finally says, indignant. The tips of Mingyu’s ears flush red as he mumbles out an apology all while JiWoo’s friends laugh nervously. He could still see them trying to look anywhere but at the pair. God, this is just embarrassing - Maybe Wonwoo truly does wish the earth would just open up and swallow him whole, especially at this very moment. 

JiWoo lets out a huff of irritation, blowing her bangs out of her face. “Are you trying to seduce my brother!?” And suddenly, it feels like she had just fired ten arrows into Wonwoo’s heart and soul. It becomes harder to breathe as his own sister seems to sound absolutely disgusted at them. Like his own grandmother’s disapproving tone of voice when Wonwoo, as a young eight-year-old, asked her about loving another man like his uncle did. It’s a cold slap to the face and ever since then, it’s been ingrained in his mind to make sure he’s the perfect little angel in everyone’s eyes. Wonwoo wonders what to say at this moment to make him be seen as that perfect angel in her eyes again. _But why am I so focused on my sister’s approval?_

“N-No!” Mingyu says, pushing himself up into a push-up position (or as much as one could when their shoelaces are trapped under the door). “I-I just tripped and—”

Seungkwan lets out a boisterous laugh, one that fills the room with warmth. “See, that’s what they all say!” he says, his voice teasing as he continues to poke at the taller man. He finally releases the giant’s shoelace, Mingyu is a free human once again. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s safe to say we can all agree that JiWoo’s brother is super hot.” 

“Please _never_ say that in front of me again,” JiWoo snaps, her already sharp eyes narrowing into a glare. Seungkwan swallows, all the colour draining from his face as he stares at his friend. Another arrow stabs itself into Wonwoo’s heart and soul. He could feel himself crumble into pieces. 

“Relax,” Vernon says, offering his hand to Mingyu. “It seems like this was an accident. No need to get so worked up about it.” Once the taller is on his feet, Vernon helps Wonwoo up, not realizing the biology student is falling to pieces right in front of him. There’s a slight daze spinning around his head as he wobbles from being on the ground for so long. He hears Vernon asking something but nothing registers in his mind, nor do the things Mingyu asks. All Wonwoo knows is that he’s suddenly being dragged to the kitchen and seated at the dining table. 

_It’s unnatural for two men to be in love. Look, Wonwoo, the sun rises in the East and it sets in the West. That’s_ natural. _It would be_ unnatural _for it to be any other way._ Wonwoo swallows as he buries his hand into his hair, remembering how disappointed his grandmother was when she was talking about his father’s older brother. _God put a_ **man** _and a_ **woman** _on this planet for a reason. He didn’t put a_ **man** _and a_ **man** _on. I can’t believe he would ruin the balance of the world like that! And he’s the eldest son too._ That’s when she decided to officially remove him from her will and from her life. _That is no son of mine. That’s the son of poor parenting._

As Wonwoo debates internally, Seungkwan stares at his friend - who seems to be glaring _daggers_ at Mingyu for no reason whatsoever. Something inside of him flares up like a raging bonfire and the sudden need to demand a reason bubbles upwards. “Yah,” Seungkwan says suddenly, breaking the internal tension within Wonwoo. He looks at his sister - whose gaze seems to be focused on Mingyu cooking in the kitchen. The way she looks at Mingyu is similar to the way a paranoid father would analyze their daughter’s potential boyfriend. “What’s your issue? Why are you looking at Mingyu like you wanna put a bullet through his head or something?” 

JiWoo hesitates for a moment, biting harshly into her delicate macarons. Her eyes are still narrowed on Mingyu. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Seungkwan leans forward on the table, his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. “Do you, like, hate Mingyu or do you just hate gay people?” JiWoo stops mid-chew and whips her head towards her friend. 

“Where the hell did that come from?” she asks, lowering her macaron. “Why would you even say that?” 

“Because you’re looking at Mingyu like he’s committing a war crime.” 

“Plus,” Vernon says from his spot next to Seungkwan, holding the older teen’s hand, fingers interlacing together. Seungkwan doesn’t miss the way JiWoo grimaces at the gesture. “You did say not to call your brother attractive.” 

JiWoo merely rolls her eyes, not understanding why it’s such a huge deal. She’s protective of her super awkward and super shy brother, sue her. “Would you want someone calling your sibling attractive in front of you? It’s freaking weird!” (From across the table, Wonwoo chokes on his coffee. Not that anyone cares). 

Seungkwan shrugs at that. “I mean, people do it all the time with Seungcheol. I’m pretty sure the math teacher openly flirted with him that one time.” 

“Wait,” Mingyu calls out from his spot in the kitchen. The smell of black bean sauce filling the tension growing air. “Detective Choi is your sibling!? I had the biggest gay crush on him for _years_! He’s so good looking!” 

(Wonwoo chokes again on his coffee. Again, it isn’t like anyone cares). 

“Too bad he’s taken!” Seungkwan laughs out in glee. All he wonders is when the wedding will be. Secretly, there’s a part of him that hopes Jihoon would wear a pretty pink suit to match his hair. Or even better, Seungcheol wears a pretty pink suit to match Jihoon’s hair. But, a teenager with a romantic outlook could only hope. 

“What the actual fuck?” JiWoo suddenly says, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as if she’s shocked. Though by what, Seungkwan isn’t so sure. However, the way she said it - tone laced with what one could say is disgust and horror - doesn’t sit well with Seungkwan. It’s a tone he’s heard before whenever he tries to talk to her about his own crushes. Eventually, it’s just easier to keep that information to himself. Less pain and less heartbreak. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his voice low. There’s a pressure building within him and he feels like he’s about to explode. 

“Seriously? Can we just not talk about this stuff right now?” Ah, there’s that tone again, the one that cuts itself deep in everyone’s soul. Seungkwan knows she doesn’t mean it like that but why does it hurt so much? Why whenever she disregards his own emotions it hurts so damn much? Is he just overreacting to something that isn’t even there? He swallows that idea pill dry and it gets stuck in his throat. “Why do we need to talk about this?”

Vernon responds with a simple, “Because it’s a part of life? People get crushes on others. Boys like boys and girls like girls. Circle of life.” 

“Well, did I ask? Besides, it makes me uncomfortable.” 

Something inside of Seungkwan snaps and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her senseless comment. Now he’s not entirely sure about the underlying message beneath. Is it just people of different sexuality or is it relationships in general? He bites hard on the inside of his cheek, thinking back to every conversation he’s had with her about this topic. The memories bubble upwards like toxic sludge and Seungkwan can’t help but feel like there’s more to her comments than normal. As if there’s a bitter undercoat hidden beneath a sugary sweet top coat. 

Her words echo inside of his head; the ones that make her stand on the topic even murkier: ‘ _I don’t know why anyone wants to get into a relationship, it’s a waste of time_.’

He couldn’t stop himself as the words of hurt and anger and frustration pours out of him like a volcano explosion. “It seems like every time we talk about it. What? It’s okay for you to gush over fictional relationships but not anyone else’s? I feel like I can’t even tell you anything now. You wanna know something JiWoo? I’ve been dating Vernon for nearly a year and kept it a secret because you don’t ever want to talk about it!” 

There’s a tense silence as the people around them slowly process the confession Seungkwan just made. All he can hear is himself breathing. Suddenly, it gets harder to breathe. Why is he feeling like this? Why is he feeling like every single word spoken is a poison that erodes his skin? Why does he want that satisfaction of just screaming at her and making her cry? Finally, why does he feel like the bad guy? 

“What? Why didn’t you say something?” she finally says. “Here I was thinking you guys just… ditched me! Or you guys hated me or something!”

Seungkwan, at that very moment, wants to strangle his best friend. “Did you not _hear_ yourself? Relationships, you said, makes you uncomfortable!” 

“Yeah, I said that but you still could’ve told me!” The volume around them is increasing by the second; the windows vibrating with every word. For a second, Seungkwan’s worried about blowing them out. 

“Listen, I’ve tried talking about my crushes before but you shut them down. Every. Single. Time. You talk about movie and book relationships like they’re the best things on earth. Guess what JiWoo, news flash; those are relationships too! Why are you okay with that but when I try to let you into my life you want to change the subject?”

“Because those aren’t real. They’re _actors_ or _characters_ pretending to be in a relationship. It’s fake.” She says that one statement like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it isn’t hurting anyone at that moment. Does that mean those aren’t relationships either? They aren’t just as real as the one he has? Somewhere an angel dies and a demon takes its place - now, all he wants to do is win this fucking fight even if he’s becoming the person he never wanted to be. His mind is buzzing from anger and he can’t think straight. _Breathe Seungkwan._

“But we’re real!” he explodes out, his hands frantically gestures between himself and Vernon. “Nothing about us is fake. I can’t believe this, and you’re asking me why I didn’t tell you, and here’s the reason. _You look like you want to vomit every time I even bring it up._ ” 

“Hey, you know I have a hard time expressing myself! Why would you just assume that about me!? I’m sorry if that’s what you thought but it’s not!” He could see angry tears welling up in her eyes but he’s too far gone to care. That satisfaction isn’t even there anymore, it’s fading away like a bruise. It hurts to touch and numb to the pain that surrounds it. It’s like he couldn’t find it in himself to care about seeing her cry. 

“You never even tried to make an effort to see how I was feeling or how I was doing. I don’t think you have any right to be upset with me. Not once did you ever ask me who I like either. You just assumed so forgive me for thinking that you didn’t want to hear about how gay I am or how I liked Vernon for a while.” Accusations start to fly before they could even stop. “You’re so relationship-phobic that you chose not to even _notice_ that Vernon and I were dating for a year!” Ugly, ugly words that pour out of his mouth in blackened tar. _I’m really the bad guy, aren’t I_? He ignores the wave of hurt that washes over her face and for a second he feels a pang of regret. Then something dawns upon him, he doesn’t know those things about JiWoo either. Those personal things that every friend should know about each other, they’re unknown. 

_God, I’m such a douche. How can I stand here accusing her of things she doesn’t know about me when I don’t know a lot about her?_

“Seriously?” she says, her voice sharp like broken glass. “I just thought you guys were close. You do skinship with me all the time, does that mean _we’re_ in a three-way relationship or something!? Plus, I have a million and one reasons to be upset and you’re telling me I shouldn’t? For starters, not only did you _ditch_ me several times, you also decided to _lie_ when I was asking where you were the _last few weeks_ . You _know_ I dislike liars, and you wanna chalk it up to me being unapproachable. You’re putting all the blame on me like I put a _gun_ to your head for making you keep your relationship a secret, for a whole year might I add, and that’s so fucked up.” Her words dig their way into Seungkwan’s core, burrowing deep within his stomach. Suddenly, he wants to vomit everything out. Yet, he forces himself to listen to what she has to say.

“Don’t you know how shitty that feels to know your own best friend doesn’t even trust you enough to tell you about something that makes him happy? Instead, you just avoid it cause you think I’m gonna reject you because you’re in a relationship. It’s just easier to assume things, isn’t it? You felt like shit so you gotta make me feel like shit too or you’re not happy!” She gasps for air, breathing heavily as the tears roll down her cheeks. The room fades into uncomfortable silence that suffocates everyone in the dining room. Even the sizzling from the kitchen has died down as well. 

“Guys,” Vernon quietly pipes up. “Stop… Can you guys just apologize to each other? I don’t want this tearing our friendship apart. It’s okay not to know a lot about your best friend.” Something about the words he says, causes a ripple effect in Seungkwan. Can you even call someone your best friend when you barely know a thing about them?

Suddenly, JiWoo slams her hand on the table, yelling out, “Apologize for what!? For not being nosy? For minding my own business? Am I the only one that’s in the wrong here?”

“No, I didn’t me—” 

“Don’t yell at him!” Seungkwan snaps.

“But you can yell at me, is that it!? How can you call me your best friend when you’re screaming at me!? Why is it every time there’s a fight it’s between me and you! And why is it every time _you_ side with him!?” She points at Vernon who’s stunned speechless. It’s hard to understand her when she’s nearly screaming at the top of her lungs. Her poor brother sits there, frozen and unable to intervene. It’s a miracle that Mingyu didn’t hear a single thing - granted, the airheaded baker is probably off in his own little world, doing god-knows-what. 

“I’m not siding with—” Vernon starts to say until Seungkwan stands up, his eyes dry. It’s like watching a movie where the main character just snaps. 

“You know what?” Seungkwan finally interrupts, his voice not sounding like his own. It’s scarily devoid of emotion. He feels like he’s swimming through clear water - it’s a dissociated feeling. “You’re right. Maybe we should stop being friends then.” With that final sentence, he picks up his coat and calmly walks out of the house. Vernon bites his lower lip and grabs his own coat, following Seungkwan out in an attempt to get the elder back in to work out his issues with his friend. It’s a double slap towards JiWoo who stumbles back into her seat, breathless. 

Minutes later is when Mingyu makes his grand appearance with a massive plate of jajangmyeon. “Who’s hungry!?” he shouts joyously, not noticing the tense air surrounding Wonwoo. (JiWoo decided that she isn’t hungry anymore and storms off to her room, slamming the door three times to keep her brother’s OCD at bay). “Where is everyone?”

* * *

_He lets out a shrill scream, his fingernails digging into the plush of the leather contraption that has him bound. He feels like every nerve and fiber is on fire, and the shocks just keep on coming. His body begins to disperse, tiny particles fading in the air as he tries to escape the hell he’s being put through. For the first time in the session, Subject 00110 wants to die, he wants to be put out of his misery. Anything is better than suffering through what seems to be like endless hours of torture._

“Stop,” _a voice commands and the electricity ends. Subject 00110 feels his fragile body slump over in the chair. It’s over, it’s finally over. At least, for the time being. He doesn’t know when the next shock will come or the next brainwashing test that’ll make him into the perfect human weapon. That’s what he’s been told for the last thirteen years of his pathetic life._ “Throw him back, he’s done for the day.”

“But sir—” 

“Did I fucking stutter? Throw. Him. Back.” _Subject 00110 can feel soldiers lifting his lifeless body up, dragging him towards the bunks where the other experiments are held. He can hear the screams and pleads of the other helpless subjects that are being tested on. Sometimes, Subject 00110 wishes he was never born. If it meant avoiding torture, he wishes he was never born. He doesn’t wish to be like this. He didn’t ask to be born with supernatural powers that can’t be controlled._

_The men throw Subject 00110 into his containment cell and promptly lock it behind them. Alone with his thoughts, Subject 00110 screams until his throat is raw and his voice is wrecked - like someone took a serrated knife and ran it down his trachea._

“San,” _a familiar voice calls, and Subject 00110 feels his emotions falling in waves as a comforting hand touches the small of his back._ “I brought you something. It’s really tasty, I promise.” _When Subject—_ San, remember your real name, you’re more than a number, _looks up, he’s reminded of the delicate rose that has graced his life. A bright, wide smile - the kind that can light up an entire universe - greets him as something wrapped in some tissues is shoved into his hand._

“You came,” _San says, taking the small gift._ “You really did come.” 

“I said I would. But I can’t be here very long, my dad… He’s still…” 

“Thank you.” _San dips his head down, his bangs covering his eyes as he holds the little treat close._ “Will I see you again tomorrow?” _The boy with the unnatural hair frowns as if he has bitten into something sour. But nonetheless, he gives San an honest pat on the head and a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips. It’s like kissing heaven, the clouds floating freely above, and where San could just be San. He’s not Subject 00110 and he’s not being trained to kill innocents._

“I’ll try,” _the boy whispers into San’s hair, running his fingers through the oily black locks._ “I swear I’ll get you out of here. Then we can just be together, no more hurt.” 

“No more hurt… Do you promise that?” _San holds out his pinky and the boy wraps it._

“I promise.” 

San has been waiting for that promise to come true for fifteen years and searching for Wooyoung for two years. He plays with a locket in his hand as the dusk turns into dawn, the morning sun peeking over the horizons and the midnight sky turns violet. One day, San will create a world where there is no more hurt, and him and Wooyoung can be together. A promise that still has yet to be fulfilled but is just in the distance, waiting to be accomplished. 

_Show them how strong you can be. I’ll be waiting._

* * *

Wonwoo paces around his bedroom, nibbling on his thumbnail as he looks up from his pacing to look at his bedroom door. He shouldn’t be this worried about his younger sister - if he learned anything from his own teenage years is that most teenagers want their space for a little while. Except, even when WonWoo was moody he still made an effort to eat something. JiWoo barely touched her dinner (after all the work Mingyu put into heating it up for them) before excusing herself early and closing herself off in her bedroom, leaving Wonwoo awkwardly dealing with Mingyu by himself. It seems like Mingyu, bless his soul, got the hint and took his leave, making it easier on the socially awkward college student. 

It’s been a few hours since then and Wonwoo doesn't know how to approach his own sister without her possibly exploding in anger or annoyance. But not talking to her could make everything worse than it already is. Usually, he is a patient person but tonight is a different story. He sinks down on his bedroom floor and holds his head in his hands. There’s a fear bubbling inside his stomach - one that he can’t seem to push away. The last week had been nothing but a mental hell for him. What is he? Who is he? Why does he feel so many butterflies whenever he thinks about Mingyu and how he felt under his palm? His cheeks heat up like ember as his fantasies dive into uncharted territories - one he should be ashamed of but for some reason isn’t. 

After mulling over his strange daydream, he decides it’s best for him to talk to her. He can’t let this wait too long or it’ll only get worse. After all, he is her older brother. Carefully, he pads towards her closed door and knocks gently. He doesn’t hear an answer but her light is on. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her so angry before in his life. “JiWoo… Are you okay? Do you want to talk? I’m worried about you since you didn’t eat dinner.” His own voice sounds foreign to him, soft yes but timid and scared. Why is he feeling like this? 

“No. Just leave me alone,” she snaps, her words feeling like venom coursing through his veins. Numbing pain that slowly paralyzes Wonwoo until he simply cannot move anymore. He knew this might happen with her, but nonetheless he persists despite his own insecurities. All Wonwoo wants is to be seen as an angel once again in his sister’s eyes. Swallowing he takes another prod, perhaps against his better judgment. 

“… Are you upset over Mingyu? Or your fight with your friends?” Leave it to his own sister to respond in the vaguest way possible. All he gets is a simple ‘Yes’ which doesn’t answer anything, well more like which question is she saying yes to? Wonwoo lets out an exasperated sigh as he runs his fingers through his messy locks. What should he even say right now? He clicks his tongue, fiddling with his glasses before voicing some of his emotions in hopes of getting her to open up. 

“I’m sorry about that. It isn’t really Mingyu’s fault you know. Since it’s probably my fault. I shouldn’t have… well, caused that mishap. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. But, it feels like—” Then his throat constricts, leaving some of his words left unspoken. It’s the inner turmoil that’s been attacking him for the last week. How is he supposed to put his thoughts into words? Everything seems to be swirling around like a blackened tornado that’s exploding with aggression. He could feel his own thoughts burning him - attacking him and dragging their nails down the side of his flesh. The long, deep scars marking his skin as he fights to escape. He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to figure out his thoughts. Abstract thoughts have always been difficult to be placed into coherent words. 

_You’re upset with me because I’m not what you thought I was. In fact, I’m confused with myself and I need someone to talk to. I know relationships make you uncomfortable but I really do need someone to listen to me. I might like Mingyu romantically._ And he doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

In the midst of his own panic attack, he doesn’t realize JiWoo’s bedroom door opening and her motioning him in. He obediently follows, his blunt nails digging crescent-shaped indents into his upper arm. He could feel his nail dig under the skin and blood rushing out from his little wound. For a moment, neither siblings speak but JiWoo looks tense, her shoulders rolled back, she’s not facing him. 

“I just want to know something,” she starts to say. He makes a noise of encouragement. Perhaps it isn’t the correct answer but nowadays, he isn’t sure what the correct answer is. “Is that why you haven’t been home lately? Is it because of him? Because of Mingyu?” Wonwoo’s throat goes dry, unable to answer. Is she upset over how busy Wonwoo is some days? (In his own defense, he does have labs to attend as well as midterms coming up and studying at home isn’t very ideal when there are so many distractions around him. Not to mention the feeling he gets whenever he is home, like he’s falling out of control and his mental illness is controlling him instead of the other way around)? Or is she upset that he’s trying to replace her as a coping mechanism for when his mind decides to conjure up the most gruesome horrors imaginable. Maybe she’s feeling betrayed by her brother too? Feeling untrusted and slowly but surely, forgotten. He stays quiet, unsure of what to say. It seems as though everything will offend her. 

When Wonwoo doesn’t respond, she continues her train of thought. “I honestly don’t care if you like him or not, that’s really not my issue here.” Her tone of voice stabs him in the stomach; cutting upwards and letting his intestines hanging out to dry. 

“Then what _is_ your issue?” he asks, trying to keep his voice calm. He wonders if his sister could hear how it shakes. “Earlier you made it seem like that was the problem. Since then I’ve been worried that you started to hate me for it, for possibly being different, for possibly not telling you about it. Is it wrong to try and figure out yourself?” There’s that familiar bitterness lingering on his tongue once again, scared of what she’s going to say. 

JiWoo lets out a sigh, one that sounds exhausted. Is she tired of trying to explain herself or is she tired of this topic in general? There are just too many elements that Wonwoo can’t seem to understand. But he supposes it’s due to his own confused mind. It’s like he’s drowning underneath insecurities. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she whispers out. “It’s just difficult when I’m already confused and uncomfortable about relationships from the beginning.” 

“Why does it make you so uncomfortable? What is it about relationships that has you stressed?” Perhaps getting the underlying issue of the matter is the only way to break through to her. But that proves to be more of a challenge than Wonwoo expects. 

“I don’t know, the PDA? The commitment to another person? The responsibility of another person’s feelings? Or the fact that everything changes and isn't the same anymore. Like there’s no time for anything but pleasing that person.” She lets out a bitter laugh, one Wonwoo knows all too well. He can remember the various expectations of keeping someone else happy and not himself. Happiness has always been such a fleeting emotion, regardless of how you view a person and he supposes that someone you want to spend your life with, they deserve a bit more. “In the books and movies, there’s always a happy ending but in life… Maybe I don’t mind those fictional relationships but real relationships are what scares me. I struggle enough trying to keep my friendships afloat; I can’t imagine what would happen if I was in a romantic relationship.” Another bitter laugh. “And what happens when you break up with that person, huh? You can’t be friends anymore without feeling awkward, and suddenly that person you used to love so much is no longer a part of your life. Just gone like that, and it would feel like you wasted so much time.”

“But it’s not a waste of time.” Wonwoo isn’t sure where he’s getting this newfound confidence. Maybe it’s his sister opening up finally or maybe he’s coming to terms with his own questionable feelings or maybe he’s still using her as a coping mechanism. _I just want to come clean._ He licks his dry lips and swallows again, not realizing how parched his throat is. “Relationships help you grow as a person, don’t you know this? But I know it’s a big deal to commit to another person, so I understand what you’re saying. Though, what I don’t understand is why you said it’s none of your business yet you’re hurt that no one is telling you their business?” It seems like mixed signals - no wonder Seungkwan got so frustrated with his own best friend. 

But he guesses that his sister doesn’t even see her own contradictions as she lets out a loud groan. “Not this again.” She whips around in her chair and faces him, eyes narrowing like a predator stalking their prey. “Even if this makes me uncomfortable, at least letting me _know_ the situation would help me avoid saying or doing something that would be hurtful, not that I would be saying anything in the first place.” When her brother doesn’t respond, too busy being trapped under his own emotional weight that he feels like he’s drowning, she takes it as a sign to continue on. “It’s like giving someone something they hate as a present, but how were you supposed to know if they never told you they hated that thing? And how were you supposed to ask if they like that thing unless you wanted to ruin the surprise? That’s probably the worst analogy possible but—I just don’t want to feel untrusted or like a stranger.” 

“I think I get what you’re saying?” Wonwoo finally says, breaking apart her words. He tells himself that he’s making progress with her. She’s breaking apart like a nice crumble pie, her emotions as the filling oozing out. Her facial features soften just a bit, filling Wonwoo with more confidence. Maybe he could finally talk to her in the way he wants to. Talk to her about his own emotions that he bottles up and his own thoughts that feel like concrete roadblocks. “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to feel like that. It’s just difficult when it’s clear this whole thing makes you uncomfortable. How do we even talk about this without it upsetting you? It’s really hard on us too, you know?” 

She blinks, the walls coming back up again. Wonwoo could feel himself shrink again. How does he proceed without losing his cool? How does he talk without wanting to run away from the words? The anxiety crawls back up his throat as he hears her choke out, “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to make out like I’m the only one who… Why are you saying that?”

“Because sometimes, it’s like talking to a ticking time bomb. I’m not sure what to say that won’t offend you. It’s quite scary on my end.” This is what she wanted right? This is what she keeps saying people don’t do for her. But the scowl Wonwoo sees on her face makes him want to puke out of fear. The look on her face reminds him all too much of their grandmother. _Oh god, what happens if she’s feeling that exact disappointment grandma felt with her son._ Wonwoo wants nothing more but to be the perfect son and the perfect brother. 

“Tch, you say that like you’ve been around? What’s so scary about me when I’m not even physically there?” Her expression suddenly turns cold, like something snapped inside of her and whatever amount of remorse or sympathy within has vanished. She doesn’t look like the same person anymore. WonWoo’s heart sinks down into the pit of his stomach when she continues in the iciest tone possible. “Surely you have enough time to screw around behind my back without letting me know. I guess I understand how grandma felt when her oldest son literally stabbed her in the back with a blunt knife.” 

All his emotions, the anxiety, the fear, and the insecurities suddenly come rushing out of nowhere, slamming into him like a wrecking ball. He can’t breathe. Oh god, he’s dying. His own sister just stabbed him in the back - drawing the blade up, exposing his spine. She’s hanging him up to dry, bones and guts exposed. Why does he feel the need to run? Why does it seem like it’s easier to apologize for something he didn’t do wrong? 

But what comes out instead is a stuttered, “I think I might be gay... but I can’t— I can’t talk to you now. I can’t when I barely know who _I_ am, let alone you.” He dashes out of her room before she could see him cry. He knows that the image of perfection she had in her mind about him has shattered into a million pieces like a thin sheet of glass. It’s broken and it’ll never be the same again.


	8. I Can't Pretend It's Okay When It's Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Death By A Thousand Cuts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTEFSuFfgnU) by Taylor Swift
> 
> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains discussions of death and extreme torture along with extreme struggles of mental illness along with descriptions of the death of a child.

The stars are absolutely beautiful at one thirty-seven in the morning. Minghao had forgotten what they looked like whenever he looked up at the night sky. More often than not, the sky down in the slums is clouded with smog or taller buildings. And in his hometown of Anshan the sky is even worse - often coated with smog so thick that Minghao has a hard time when day time is and when night time is. But here, in Junhui’s penthouse apartment on the seventeenth floor, he feels enamoured by the stars that shine so brightly against the navy blue night. With his hand wrapped around a mug of hot lemon tea and a plush quilt around his shoulders, Minghao feels at peace. 

But peace never seems to last long for him - not when you tend to live in your head as Minghao does. His sharp eyes trace the rising steam from his mug, watching it dance before evaporating away. A part of him wonders how much Junhui remembers about their shared time - the summer of Minghao’s junior year before he enters the final year of that hell known as high school. He swallows down his tea, feeling it burn all the way down to his stomach. 

“Can’t sleep?” a familiar voice asks. 

“Yeah,” Minghao replies back, still looking out the large ceiling sized window. “What about you?” 

Junhui gives a one-shoulder shrug and plops down right next to the younger. “Same as you.” Minghao shifts, lifting one side of the quilt and draping it over Junhui’s broad shoulders. He offers a noise of appreciation as he snuggles closer to the younger. Minghao forces himself to look away and stare at the steam coming from his tea. He wonders if Junhui knows what he does to Minghao. A library full of memories comes rushing back in a stream of consciousness. The memories of running next to Junhui, holding his hand as the pair escapes from the downpour. Laughing whenever they entered a little shop on the street corner, soaking wet much to the owner’s disapproval. 

He can remember the first time Junhui kisses him. It was awkward and in a rush of teenage hormones but in Minghao’s mind, it seemed perfect. Perhaps it’s the way he idolizes romance - his mother reading him romance novels every night as a child probably didn’t help his minor fantasy. 

“What are you thinking about?” Junhui asks, his breathing slowing down as his head falls against Minghao’s bony shoulder. 

“What are we?” Minghao says in return, hearing Junhui take a sharp inhale of breath in. Judging by the silence that emits from Junhui, Minghao wishes he didn’t say anything. Maybe if he didn’t then they wouldn’t be in such a grey area of a relationship. What are they anyway? Friends? Co-workers? Lovers? Minghao grips his mug tighter, swallowing dryly; he gulps the rest of his tea down. It’s warm now and doesn’t burn on the way down. 

“I don’t think I have time for a relationship,” Junhui mumbles, shattering Minghao’s hope into pieces. “Whatever we are now, I think it’s more than enough.” 

“No commitment right?” 

“Yeah, no commitment.” Junhui pauses, his fingers idly drawing little figure eights on Minghao’s thighs. With each stroke, he plucks the sensitive nerves, electricity rushing through Minghao’s body. He shakes with each stroke, mind fogging up. “Friends with benefits.” 

“Wh-What happens if one of us catches feelings for the other?” Minghao bites his lower lip, muscles shaking as each individual nerve is plucked with a small tweezer. It feels so good yet so wrong to Minghao’s idealized fantasy he’s conjured up in his mind.  _ Love me,  _ his mind shouts.  _ Love me. Love me. Love me. _ But he knows that’s far too unrealistic with how they’re being. 

“We’ll deal with it when that time comes,” Junhui replies, his breath hot against Minghao’s neck - another shiver racing down his spine. His mind is swimming upwards, as Junhui’s fingers ghost over Minghao’s torso. The nerves tremble under the surface, bubbling upwards. His mind thinks of nothing but Junhui -  _ come closer and undo me like a ribbon on a present. Make me lose all inhibition until I can’t think properly anymore.  _ Minghao dips his head, mug of tea being coaxed out of his fingers, and left on the glass coffee table. 

Junhui’s gentle fingers guide him to his massive bedroom, quilt falling off Minghao’s shoulders as he follows. The stars still twinkle against an indigo sky at five thirty-nine in the morning. 

* * *

Seokmin had spent the last five years pretending everything is alright, but if that’s the case, how come he couldn’t do it now. How come it’s so difficult to keep up his happy facade? His mind wanders as he rings in the next customer, his eyes glazing over as he scribbles the order at the bottom of the cup. He wonders if Joshua could see how sluggish the younger’s movements are. He wonders if he could see the flickering lights behind the dying happiness. Groaning, he wants to bash head against the register and end this mental torture. The demonic voices laugh at Seokmin’s misery. 

“Hey,” Joshua says, sliding up next to the younger, a gentle hand on the small of the other’s back. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Seokmin replies, putting up his cracking mask. The lines grow like tree roots, digging deep into the ground. He swallows when Joshua’s eyebrows raise, but the older man doesn't say anything. He doesn’t push the topic, opting to (jokingly) whine about the autumn season and how all his clothes now smell like pumpkin spice. Seokmin lets out a sigh that he didn’t know he was holding. 

The shift ticks on slowly, the day dragging out like molasses dripping down a glass dish. And by mid-day, Jaehwan wanders into the cafe and flips the OPEN sign. The two workers look up, Joshua giving the manager a cheerful wave while Seokmin gives him a bright grin. Jaehwan pauses at the front of the register, his plush lips drawn into a straight line. Seokmin’s mind thinks of the worst scenario possible, his hands gripping the rag with all his might. His nails threaten to tear a hole into the pale blue rag. 

“Seokmin,” Jaehwan says, his voice steady and soft. 

“ _ Don’t believe him, _ ” a voice sneers. “ _ He’s going to stab you in the back. _ ” Seokmin instantly raises his defenses, his body going on edge. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Seokmin bites out, wondering if his voice is rising. He tells himself to calm down, suppresses the urge to let out a screaming rage. His mind buzzes angrily as the voices scream at him, laughing at him. He’s not fine but who really cares about what Seokmin is thinking? “Why do you ask?” 

“Just… I think we should talk in my office,” Jaehwan says. He motions the younger to follow him and the barista begrudgingly follows, dropping the rag as Joshua heads to flip the sign. Jaehwan’s office is soft, littered with little anime trinkets that his wife got him whenever she traveled to Japan. Seokmin gingerly takes a seat on the plush armchair the manager always has in his office as Jaehwan slides into the sneak across. 

Seokmin takes note of the chaos on Jaehwan’s desk; the sheets of paper scattered everywhere as the elder sets up his laptop. The gnawing panic that digs its teeth into the side of Seokmin’s stomach grows uncontrollably. He could feel himself bleed from the inside out. When they cut open his body his guts will tumble out, each organ corroded away till there’s nothing left. Blackened blood will pour out, finally showing everyone the horrors of his mind. 

“Seokmin,” Jaehwan says, his voice remaining that false sense of comfort. “I’m worried about your mental health.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Seokmin says, his words tasting bitter on his tongue. It hurts to say, living in a mental jail. It’s a brutal containment decorated with a glittery sense of freedom. “I’m fine and I’m handling it.” 

“Are you sure? You’ve been missing shifts more often than usual.” The honesty of the fact is so cruel that Seokmin recoils a bit, biting on his lower lip. He knows all of it. The missed shifts; the sluggish movements; the constant mistakes he’s been making on people’s orders; the lack of concentration, all of it comes barrelling into view. He swallows thickly as Jaehwan patiently waits for him to respond. When the employee couldn’t, Jaehwan fills the silence. “As part of the insurance that’s within this company, therapy is covered.” 

“Bu—”

“Just try it,” Jaehwan says, holding up his hand and silencing the protests. “If you don’t like it then you could leave. It’s perfectly fine to do so.” The younger male nibbles forlornly on his thumbnail, should he even do it? What happens if he’s just wasting someone’s time with his silly worries? What happens if people think less of him? Is he weak for needing help to function normally?

“Alright,” Seokmin finally says, his shoulders slumping down. “Just… Don’t tell anyone, please. I just… need some time.” 

Jaehwan merely smiles. “Take all the time you need.” 

Soonyoung stands outside the Carat Cafe, wiping sweat off his sticky forehead as he watches Jaehwan Lee - the general manager - flip the sign to CLOSE then minutes later, watches Joshua flip it back to OPEN. Confused (only slightly), Soonyoung pushes inside even though he probably reeks of sweat and butter (he had about four pieces of bread this morning for breakfast; each one slathered in melting butter). Joshua, the lone employee/assistant manager, wipes the counter down despite it already being spotless. The silver bell hanging above chimes delicately, a beautiful  _ ding  _ sounds through the empty cafe. 

“Oh,” Joshua says, lifting his head; a bright smile on his face to mask the heavy eye bags. “Soonyoung are you here to see Seokmin or are you here for coffee?” 

“Uh… Both?” It’s a question Joshua always asks whenever the dancer walks into the cafe (mainly because Soonyoung is notorious for coming into the cafe and not buying anything). Joshua nods, humming to himself as he prepares something smelling like pumpkin. Soonyoung hops onto the barstool, spinning idly as the espresso machine lets out an ear-piercing scream. 

“You seem…different somehow,” Soonyoung says, startling Joshua. He spills a bit of steamed milk on the counter. Bug-eyed, Joshua caps the drink and places it in front of the younger man. 

“O-oh? Different… How?” 

“I dunno, happier?” Soonyoung takes a sip, not minding the temperature (or Joshua’s obvious wince). “Are you banging anyone?” 

“So-Soonyoung!” Joshua says, his cheeks turning bright red as the red Christmas lights that hang around the city during December. “You can’t just…” He indignantly flails his arms around, gesturing blindly to the empty air. “You know, say those things in public!” 

Soonyoung responds with a tilt of the head and his chubby cheeks curling up into a grin - one that makes Joshua wish he could curl up under the counter and hide there for all eternity. It’s the teasing grin, the grin that holds the elder in place as the dancer pokes the cowardly bear. 

“So you  _ are  _ banging someone!” Soonyoung stands at the edge of the stool, leaning forward. “Tell me, who is it? Is it someone we know? Oh, oh! That means you did the—”

“Yes!” Joshua shouts, throwing his hands up in exasperation before placing his head down. “I did…” A heavy sigh leaves his body as he stands up straighter, frowning over his impulsive decision to lie - correction, fib. He sends a quick mental prayer for sinning in front of the heavenly lord;  _ forgive me father, for I have sinned. I have committed the sin of lying in order to get an idiot off my back.  _ Soonyoung spends the next ten minutes firing off questions in rapid succession, causing Joshua’s mind to spin uncontrollably. His words jumble and the next thing he knows, Jaehwan’s office door slams open and a very red-faced Seokmin comes rushing out. His outerwear is already on as he shoves his hands into his pockets and storms out of the cafe. The pair stares at the scene before Soonyoung bolts from his seat, leaving nothing but a crisp twenty dollar bill in his place. 

Sighing, the assistant manager pulls out his cellphone, scrolling through his contact list for San’s number. He hits it, dreading the interaction already before the line even goes through. There’s just something weird about his coworker, something he isn’t fully sure about. All Joshua knows is that he doesn’t like him at all but can’t pinpoint down the reasoning. San picks up instantly and gives an answer before Joshua can even ask. 

* * *

Seungcheol hates the artificial smell of the hospital, there’s something about the blinding white walls that sends his mind into overdrive. He associates the harsh walls with death; an angel of death coming down and touching the patients here - regardless of age. Just like a crime scene, he hates having to tell a person’s loved one that it’s their baby lying dead on the table. He hates watching the people crumble like dominos, begging him to be wrong and wishing he was. So, when he walks into the hospital room, he grimaces; already smelling that familiar scent of death wafting through the room. The body lying on the operating table has a white sheet over it, but close to the mouth and nose area, the detective could see the amicable rusty brown sight of dried blood, staining the white sheet.

“Victim is ten-years-old, a fifth-grader at the local elementary school,” the doctor says from behind. “Time of death was two-thirty am; we tried everything but by the time he arrived there was very little we could do.” The doctor looks at the table solemnly, before giving Seungcheol a comforting squeeze; telling the younger man that it’s okay to be upset.

“The victim’s family,” Seungcheol says, turning away from the body. “Are they still here?” 

“We had to put them in a quiet room. They kept screaming and we couldn’t calm them down.” The detective nods, motioning to the doctor to lead the way down the busy emergency room to the back of the hospital. A place Seungcheol is all too familiar with - he swallows, approaching a locked room with the victim’s parents sitting inside. The father has a comforting arm around his wife, eyes looking dull and empty and exhausted. While the wife has her face pressed against the crook of her husband’s shoulder, her entire body shakes as if she’s on a caffeine high. But Seungcheol knows better than to assume something so inconsiderate. The doctor merely nods, giving the detective yet another comforting squeeze - but nothing comforts Seungcheol, not when he’s aware of this family’s son lying dead in the room over. Bracing himself, the young detective walks up to the closed door and knocks. 

There’s a pause before Seungcheol hears his first sign of life; a pitiful “Come in”. His large heart breaks momentarily before opening the door and entering. After all, Seungcheol is a cold case detective, not a social worker - that’s more Hoseok’s job. But with the elder out due to a severe cold, Seungcheol is the only one equipped to handle these kinds of high, intense emotional situations. The husband and wife look up, his sharp eyes stained at the corner with red. His lips tremble as Seungcheol introduces himself; ; his eyes utterly dazed as Seungcheol begins to talk. 

“So,” he says, pulling out a small pocketbook and metallic pen from his breast pocket. “Can you tell me what happened on the night your son was rushed to the hospital?” 

The mother and father swallow, hesitant to say anything. Seungcheol patiently waits, his eyes focusing on the flowers (lilacs) on the table in front of them, before moving towards the set of magazines that he swears Jeonghan and Seungkwan reads. There’s a ragged breath before the wife starts talking. 

“It… it was supposed to be another  _ normal _ day you know?” the wife starts, her fingers idly picking at her cuticles. “Mason… My son who’s… well, you know. He went to bed like normal - he always asked me to play that one CD.”

“That Queen CD,” the father interrupts, voice cracking as he speaks. “He really liked, um, Queen.” Seungcheol nods, scribbling the information down in his own chicken scratch he calls handwriting. 

“But then, after we started the CD,” the wife says, her voice breaking into pieces as she sobs. “H-he started  _ screaming _ and there was blood coming out.” The scene is vivid inside Seungcheol’s head, the pain and agony the two parents must’ve experienced watching their son writhe around in torment. There is another ragged inhale as the parents try to compose themselves. But Seungcheol knows not to rush families who are emotionally charged - it’s hard losing a loved one without any reason. And the child is just so young as well, making it harder.

No one wants to bury their baby. 

“There was so much blood…” the father repeats, eyes in a state of shock. Seungcheol grimaces, remembering the stain on the white cloth. “Everywhere. Mason… I just—”

“When did the ambulance come?” 

“When Mason just fell over,” the mother says, eyes puffy and red from the tears. “Detective is… is this normal?” Seungcheol doesn’t know how to answer that - in fact, he has never known how to answer something like that ever. What is considered normal? That’s when he lets out a shuddery sigh, closing his notepad and tucking it back into his uniform. It’s best to talk to the coroner about those kinds of things. He pulls his wallet out, tugging out his business card, and hands it to the father.

“If you have any more information feel free to call me,” Seungcheol says. “And if we have any developments in this case, you’ll be the first to know.” The family nods as they pocket the business card. Just as Seungcheol is about to leave, he hears someone calling his name. Mason’s father comes running towards the detective, hair tousled and eyes bloodshot. He pauses as the man catches up to him. 

“Detective,” Mason’s father says. “I just want to know… Do you have kids?” 

“No,” Seungcheol replies. “But I have two younger brothers.” The man runs his hand over his exhausted face, flaps of skin sagging as he does. Suddenly, a man who is supposed to be in his late thirties aged forty years. 

“Do you… Am I a bad person for not reacting as quickly as my wife did?” Seungcheol swallows; another question he’s never equipped to answer. What are you supposed to say? Yes? No? For a second, he wishes Hoseok is here to help - the man always seems to know what to say in these situations. 

“Everyone reacts differently. There’s no right or wrong way to react to something like this. And if you didn’t react, it doesn’t make you a bad person.” Seungcheol lifts his hand, hesitant to give the man a pat on the shoulder when the man launches himself into a massive bear hug, sobbing quietly. The detective stands there for a moment, stunned at the reaction for a moment. His eyes widening for a split second before hugging the man back. The pair stands there for a while, the dead quiet hallway amplifying the man’s sobs as he wails for his dead son to come back to life. 

Within his career, Seungcheol has experienced heavy sadness whenever families cry for their children or loved ones. He has experienced anger because their loved ones’ case went cold and forgotten. He has experienced happiness, when the case is solved, finally bringing peace over the distressed family. But all of those experiences he has under his belt will never prepare him for the tears that always threaten to overflow whenever he sees someone else cry. His throat tightens and his eyes burn. His airway constricts and this overwhelming  _ sorrow _ comes rushing over him, pulling him down into the depths of despair. 

“I’m sorry,” Mason’s father says, pulling away and wiping away the snot that drips out of his nose with the back of his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to… But, thank you. I hope you catch this son of a bitch.” Seungcheol isn’t sure why that one sentence sends such a strong shiver down his spine. Regardless, he plasters on a polite smile and nods. 

“I’ll make sure to do everything I can.” 

* * *

The slamming of the front door startles Mingyu from his vegetable chopping (accidentally slicing his finger in the process), forcing the tall man to whip his head towards the foyer and living room. His younger sister Gigi sits in front of the television, chewing on Mingyu’s homemade yam chips (a real hit at his knitting club). The siblings turn to see Seokmin leaning against the front door, looking up at the ceiling for forgiveness before kicking his shoes off and stalking into his bedroom. The door closes softly behind leaving an air of stunned silence in its wake. Blood still dripping from his finger, Mingyu wanders down the pristine hardwood floor and softly knocks on Seokmin’s door. 

“Minnie,” Mingyu softly says. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Leave me alone.” A curt and unnaturally aggressive response coming from the literal embodiment of sunshine itself. It startles Mingyu enough for him to trip over his own two feet and slam into Minghao’s bedroom door. A few seconds later, the door swings open and the disheveled, grumpy Chinese glowers down at the massive puppy dog. 

“I literally have a deadline coming up in twenty-eight hours so you better have a good reason to— Mingyu why is there blood all over the floor?” Within the span of twenty seconds, Mingyu stares at Minghao, then at his injured finger, then back up at his roommate before dramatically fainting at the sight of little tiny blood droplets littering the hardwood floor. Minghao stares at the fainted man, letting out an exasperated sigh before heading towards the bathroom (which involved stepping over Mingyu’s unconscious body) and grabbing the First-Aid kit. The very first rule of living with the walking hazard known as Mingyu Kim is that the First-Aid kit must be fully stocked at all times. 

Both Minghao and Seokmin learned from past events - like Mingyu knocking himself out with a frypan somehow or Mingyu giving himself the biggest bruise in history after running full speed, headfirst into a screen door - that it’s important to ensure the safety of their roommate. Even if it’s because he feeds them all. 

Seokmin’s door suddenly opens, slamming the wood into Mingyu’s shins. Minghao winces, knowing that it’ll leave a nasty bruise when the older finally wakes up. 

“Mingyu, look I’m sorry. I didn’... Minghao? Don’t you have a deadline coming up?” Seokmin blinks away the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes when he sees the bags under Minghao’s eyes. “I’m sorry… I didn’t even…”

“I was almost done,” Minghao replies, peeling off a Hello Kitty band-aid and wrapping it around Mingyu’s finger. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Seokmin merely nods, unable to say anything. The pair watches Mingyu before Minghao decides to work a bit more and heads back into his room to catch up after spending two days procrastinating. Seokmin sits down in the hallway, staring at the unconscious Mingyu as Gigi wanders over - yam chip in hand. She hands one to Seokmin wordlessly and stares down at her older brother. 

“Idiot,” she says, turning around and heading back to the television. Seokmin nods, chewing on the chip. It takes ten minutes for Mingyu to wake up and return back to cooking as if nothing happened. 

* * *

Soonyoung should’ve seen the obvious signs within his partner of two years, nearing three. He should’ve seen the way Seokmin would hide from the older for a few days, chalking it up to paper-thin excuses. He swallows as he nears his partner’s apartment building, the ball of guilt coiling in the depths of his stomach. It’s uncomfortable to see his boyfriend rush out of the Carat Cafe in tears, and it’s even more uncomfortable to see him shove Soonyoung away like he’s the root cause of all his misery. The look of pain and agony that lingers in Seokmin’s pretty brown eyes burn a large wound in Soonyoung’s mind. A bruise that takes years to fade. 

As the dancer nears the apartment, he wonders if this is really a good idea. Should he even be here when Seokmin made it clear that he didn’t want anyone to see him in such a state of misery? After all, Soonyoung was the same way when he was fourteen. Moody and temperamental over the littlest things; a behaviour that seems common in teenagers if it wasn’t for the fact that Soonyoung would be upset over  _ everything.  _ It was like living with a ticking time bomb that wasn’t able to articulate his thoughts and emotions. 

He drowns the darkest times of his life and raises his hand to knock despite owning a key. The door swings open, nearly hitting Soonyoung in the face. An exhausted looking Minghao stumbles out, clothes in disarray as he looks over at Soonyoung. 

“Are you here to see Seokmin?” he asks, his voice sounding as exhausted as he looks. Soonyoung wonders if the latter got into a fight with a bear trap because that’s the only explanation for Seokmin’s fashionista roommate to be looking like the way he is. Soonyoung can only nod, stepping into the tiny apartment as Minghao shuffles back into his bedroom. “I’m going to sleep for another… I don’t know, thirty years. Wake me when the world ends.” The room across the hall slams shut, leaving Soonyoung to wonder what the hell just happened. No matter, he thinks, knocking on Seokmin’s door. Seokmin comes first before anyone else. 

“Minnie,” he says, peeking through the crack. “It’s me, Soonie. And I brought over some custard.” No response, forcing Soonyoung to break in like the responsible boyfriend he is. 

The bedroom is dark with light barely creeping in through the crack in the curtains. In the corner of the room is a lump on the full-sized bed, with the quilt over his curled up body. Soonyoung’s heart breaks into pieces every time he sees it - from the first time back in September to now. It’s a brutal sight, one that reminds Soonyoung of himself all too well. Swallowing down his own horrid past, he puts the plastic bag of store-bought custard down on Seokmin’s desk chair and pads over towards his partner. 

Gently, he shoves the other towards the wall and crawls in, wrapping his arms around Seokmin’s thin waist. 

“Go away,” Seokmin mumbles out. “I’ll be okay in a few days.” 

“Have you eaten yet?” Soonyoung asks instead, knowing better than to prod and push people when they’re in such a delicate state of mind. “I think you should eat something.” The blanket lump rustles a bit before Seokmin’s head pops out from underneath. There’s dark bags under his red eyes, an indication that he’s been crying for the last few days. Another painful sight that has Soonyoung’s heart-shattering again - it’s a cruelty to see and a painful reminder that he couldn’t do anything about it. 

“Fine,” Seokmin says, sitting up a bit more. Soonyoung nibbles on his lower lip nervously as he heads towards his plastic bag. Seokmin’s face looks gaunt, sharp cheekbones protruding out like all the times Soonyoung would forget to eat. ( _ Maybe it wasn’t him forgetting though, but, he likes to think it was. Just to make it easier on his mind _ ). Soonyoung holds out the pudding cups like holding out some treats to a wild, caged animal. No one knows how the animal is going to react - are they going to lash out or are they going to accept the food you offer. 

Seokmin gingerly takes the cup and rips it open, practically savouring his time in eating the tiny cup. “You went to the Japanese store out of town? Why?”

“I thought you’d like this,” Soonyoung says simply, ripping open his own pudding cup. His bites are just as delicate - a fear of choking on food that grew up with him. Not that he’ll ever tell anyone. “Do you or am I—”

“I like it,” Seokmin quickly says, shoveling the pudding into his mouth. Fear jumps through Soonyoung’s throat and for a second he worries that his boyfriend is going to choke to death. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen but that doesn’t stop Soonyoung from fussing over Seokmin like a mother animal cleaning her baby; all while his own pudding cup sits on the bedside table, completely forgotten.

* * *

For the dignity of Seungkwan and his date night with Vernon, Seungcheol chooses to take an aimless drive through the streets of AL-1. His mind wanders to the little boy lying dead in the coroner’s office as the doctor performs an autopsy on the kid. Something in Seungcheol’s stomach churns uncomfortably as he slows his car down in front of Siwon’s house, on the opposite side of town. Swallowing, the detective turns off his car and simply sits there, head resting on the steering wheel. The day had been nothing but emotionally draining for him - all the deaths that kept piling up without an answer. The boy today had been another in a series of unexplainable murders that’s been running the police force dry. Not to mention that Seungcheol has hit yet another dead end on his kidnapping investigation, thus forcing him to not only work on his ever-growing pile of cold cases, but also on this new string of murders. 

Swallowing down whatever anxiety he has built up in his stomach, he gets out of the car and heads up the concrete walkway to Siwon’s townhouse. Two knocks are often what it takes for Siwon to open the door in a huff (after all, it isn’t the first time Siwon has had the cops visit him). But instead of his older half-brother answering the door, Yeonjun’s face greets Seungcheol instead. There’s a beat of silence between the two as Seungcheol takes in Yeonjun’s appearance. How long has it been since the two have seen each other? Months? Years? Regardless, Seungcheol has never been happier to see his kid brother. 

“ _ Someone’s life could be taken away within seconds, _ ” Kihyun had said to him earlier in the day when Seungcheol was still reeling from his encounter with Mason’s parents. “ _ There’s nothing we can do about tomorrow, but there’s a lot we can do about today _ .” Something about the encounter with Mason’s parents, combined with what Kihyun said made Seungcheol feel uneasy for the rest of the day. Perhaps that’s why he unconsciously decided to come to Siwon’s home, knowing his kid brother is there. 

“Why are you here?” Yeonjun demands, his eyes narrowing into daggers. God, he looks so much like mom, it almost makes Seungcheol just break down right then and there. “Don’t you have better people to see?” 

“Like who?” Seungcheol asks, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the end of the sentence. Yeonjun doesn’t reply, looking away from the older while shifting on his two feet. “Do you want to get something to eat? I know a really good twenty-four-hour diner.” His younger brother hesitates, looking uncomfortable at the idea before finally shrugging. 

“I guess… I’ll grab my coat.” The front door slams, leaving Seungcheol waiting outside in the cooling night alone with his thoughts. For a second he wonders why that encounter with those parents has left him so uneasy. He’s dealt with scenarios like this before; it’s not something new and yet, he feels so unnerved, so unprepared for what might come. Having the power of foresight is amazing and all but is it worth not being able to choose what you see or when you see it? All of those questions swirl inside Seungcheol’s mind and it makes him doubt his career path. 

The front door swings open once again and Yeonjun steps out, wearing a dark hoodie vest and a thick white sweatshirt underneath. With his hands shoved in his pockets, the younger Choi steps into the porch light. Seungcheol pauses, doing a double-take at his kid brother. He swears, the last time he saw Yeonjun, his hair was brown not neon blue. But before he can ask, the younger man pushes his way past the detective and towards the parked 2018 all black Camaro, slipping into the passenger seat with ease. 

Seungcheol does the same and to say the car ride is awkward is severely underestimating the tension that’s in the car. It’s so thick that Seungcheol is practically suffocating in it - so many unspoken memories and words just hanging in the air. He’s not even sure where to start with his brother - so all he can do is sit back and enjoy the late-night radio. Some rap songs play through the speakers, and unconsciously, he finds himself humming along with it. 

“Didn’t know you liked this kind of thing,” Yeonjun says, still looking out the window. “Thought you were like Siwon.” 

“No,” Seungcheol replies, turning carefully into the parking lot of Jam Jam Diner. “It’s a good song.” 

“Sure.” The silence between two brothers take over once again - letting the distorted vocals of the rapper fill the empty space. 

_ Run away, but we're running in circles _

_ Run away, run away, run away. _

Seungcheol parks close to the front of the diner, his breathing heavy as he sits with his head against the steering wheel. Eyes closed and panting. He can feel Yeonjun touching his arm, but he can’t pull himself out of the vision that’s soon filling his mind. November thirteenth, it’s a Friday and the air smells like copper or rusted metal. It chokes him, the claws of grief and decay gripping his throat, ripping out his vocal cords. Limbs and muscles hang loosely against his body as Seungcheol staggers through the dark, foggy home. There are tiny dust particles floating around the air as a truly gruesome sight comes into view. The body lying on the ground is distorted by the edges of the vision, but written in blood on the wall is the phrase:  _ Tomorrow is Never Promised _ — 

“Seungcheol!” Yeonjun shouts, breaking Seungcheol out of his vision.  _ Or is it a nightmare? _ “Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost or—”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says, unbuckling his belt. “I… Let’s go inside. I promised to treat you didn’t I?” He shuts the car off and quickly heads into the diner, heart beating like a drum in his ears. Seungcheol swallows, turning back towards his younger brother. There’s a look in his eye that suggests fear; but he isn’t so sure. All he knows is that he hopes that whatever he saw in his vision isn’t true. Not another person losing their life in the most senseless way possible.

* * *

The moment Chan Lee enters his elementary school, heaven leaves and hell begins. He’s not even sure how or why he’s a constant target to people, but sadly, that’s how life is. The second the front doors close, he’s shoved onto the ground. His cheeks burn as he hears malicious laughter from above and a rhetorical question being posed to him. He ignores it, pushing himself up and lowering his head. 

“I asked you a question,” the guy says, shoving Chan into the row of lockers. The smaller boy hisses in pain, his shoulder burning from the locker being pressed into his bones and nerves. The bully holds him there, his ugly, disgusting face getting close to Chan’s. He could smell the eggs the other ate for breakfast this morning, making the small boy gag. “Did you dress yourself today or your gay ass uncle had to help you?” 

“Leave my uncle out of this,” Chan spits back, shoving the bigger male off. “It’s none of your concern!” He hurries away, not looking back, terrified that the massive brute is chasing after him. He could hear the creature bellowing, curses ringing through the barely filled hallways. When Chan gets to the other side of the school, the mocking bellows cease and for a moment Chan can breathe. He rubs his shoulder, muttering about ruining his second favourite shirt in the world, before jerking his locker open. He hates the fact those words affect him but they do. It isn’t like he’s ashamed of his uncle, the CEO has been a better father than Chan’s real dad ever will be. But, he couldn’t help but wonder if his uncle being gay (well bisexual, but those demons didn’t need to know that) is a bad thing. 

Whenever he’s feeling horrible, he’d listen to the recordings his mother left him before she died. One of them talks about his uncle - her younger brother. 

“ _ Channie, when you come into the world, I want you to meet my younger brother. You’d love him. Please, don’t think lowly of him because he’s different. Being different doesn’t mean he’s a bad person, it simply means that he’s different and there’s nothing wrong with that. What I’m trying to say is, Channie, don’t be afraid to be different; to be unique. You’re loved regardless. _ ” 

He couldn’t listen to a lot of the recordings without locking himself in his bedroom and crying into his oversized dinosaur plush his grandma got him the moment he was born. Swallowing the sadness down, he grabs his books for the day and heads towards his classroom. His classroom is a special class, a noble effort in trying to help him catch up to the level of kids his age (it’s not his fault that he has a learning disability, he’s just born like that). Chan sits in the middle of the classroom, head dipping down as he scribbles the date at the corner of the fresh page of his notebook. English is first, and his favourite class even if Gigi isn’t there to enjoy it with him. The poor thing is sick with a cold that’s running through the school. 

There are a few minutes before class begins, prompting Chan to pull out his other notebook. His secret notebook that no one is allowed to touch (not that anyone wants to touch it anyways, the leather cover is beginning to fall apart, the pages barely holding on. He’s going to need to get another one from uncle Hakyeon soon). Opening to a fresh page, he scribbles the names of the mean jerks that keep bugging him every day. You’d think they would’ve learned from the first time but no, they still persist. They probably will to the end of time.  _ Whatever _ , Chan thinks, rolling his eyes.  _ More fun for me.  _ He, then, scribbles the punishment next to their names. 

One week of various near-death experiences, that ought to make them stop. At least Chan hopes it’ll help them stop, but he knows better than to believe in something so silly. The classroom door slides open and more students from his class filters in. Chan quickly places his fraying notebook into his backpack and faces the front of the class. Lessons have started and uncle Jeonghan would kill him if he chose to skip. 

* * *

Jeonghan peers at his cellphone, frowning at the time - the day is unnaturally slow and no matter how much he does (the fashion industry is constantly busy), it seems like only fifteen minutes have gone by. He groans and face plants onto his desk, wishing that time would go by faster. In the office next door, he hears Junhui humming quietly to himself as he works on the mountain of paperwork Jeonghan threw on him earlier in the week. The blond stares at his own humongous pile of paperwork and decides that it’s time for a break. He gets up and stretches his legs, walking out of his prison (it’s a beautiful office, don’t get him wrong but when you spend roughly forty-seven hours locked in one, it becomes nothing more than a prison cell) and heads into the busy hallway. 

Through the glass walls, he could see designers working hard at whatever they’re coming up with; photographers and editors designing the shoots, and models lounging around in the lobby. He sneaks towards the elevator, heading down to the cafeteria, hoping to get some damn peace and quiet. The cafeteria is empty, minus the lunch staff and the janitors milling about. He doesn’t pay them any mind, heading straight for a table in the back corner and placing his head down for a much-needed catnap. 

But that doesn’t happen, as in the fashion industry there’s always something happening. Like today, when he’s about to fall asleep, he’s suddenly jerked awake. But by what is the true question? Perhaps it’s the way Minghao runs into the cafeteria, hair frazzled and panicked that stops Jeonghan. Or maybe it’s the words “Another model just quit” that has Jeonghan standing up in a hurry, heading upstairs to the shoot. 

When he slides into the room, he sees one of the new models storming out, much to Minghao’s distress and ignoring Junhui’s pleas to stay. Jeonghan sighs, rubbing his tired eyes as he looks up at the ceiling for patience and perhaps an idea. 

“The fall season shoot is going to be ruined,” Junhui says, scribbling something down on his iPad. “It’s not going to go out on time if models are walking out like no tomorrow.” 

“I didn’t know the fashion industry is so dramatic…” Minghao says, rubbing his eyes and setting his camera down. Jeonghan bites his lower lip, trying hard to think of something. The deadline for these photos is four weeks from now, which doesn’t include the time it requires to look over the pictures and the time it takes to edit. 

“How many female models are there?” Jeonghan asks Junhui, who quickly types something into his iPad, shaking his head as he reads over the list of models. Either they were somewhere else in the world (Tokyo, Milan, Paris, etc) and won’t return until after the deadline; or their schedules were already fully booked. Jeonghan curses once more before pausing and staring at the two Chinese men in front of him. A devilish smile spreads across his face as he stalks over to Minghao. The younger of the pair happens to be the perfect height and body shape for what a female model should look like. He drags Junhui aside and asks him to get the other photographer Raina to come in, the other nods, rushing out as Jeonghan calls in the makeup artist. 

“Make him look presentable,” Jeonghan says, pointing to Minghao - who happened to be distracted by his photos, pointing out the flaws for each and taking out the ones he likes. The team of makeup artists all stare at the blond CEO before looking back at the young male, a devious smile spreads across their faces as the group stalks closer to the photographer. Within seconds the team of stylists grab onto Minghao and whisk him away, perhaps down towards the spa to get him prepped for the shoot. 

Jeonghan looks at the time, twelve fifty-seven, and if the esthetician could finish waxing and priming Minghao within an hour, then the shoot could be saved (to some extent). Jeonghan sighs once more as he hears the younger Chinese man shout out in confusion. Junhui returns, tapping something on the iPad. 

“Raina said she’ll stay till the shoot gets done,” Junhui says, not looking up. “All we need is a model and we’ll be okay.” 

“Already taken care of,” Jeonghan says, pulling the cosmetologist aside and politely asking her to prepare a wig. Something that looks realistic. She nods, scurrying off as Jeonghan leans back against the wall; happy a crisis has been averted. Junhui stares, unsure of what to say or do when one of the stylists returns, holding up one of the outfits and a lacy black bra. Junhui’s eyes grow wide, finally understanding the blond’s plans before slapping his face in exasperation. 

“How big?” the young lady - Hyerin - asks, holding a small pile of silicon breasts in her hands. Jeonghan never thought he’d have to decide the breast size of someone, but in the fashion industry, there's always something new. He picks the size that looks the most realistic before she nods and runs off. 

“You know,” Junhui says, sitting down on a stool. “Minghao is going to sue you for emotional distress.” 

Jeonghan waves it off. “It’s not going to be  _ that  _ bad, it’s only for the last few outfits and then he can go back to being behind the camera.” He ignores the younger’s dramatic eye roll, waving the other’s anxiety off as stress. But a part of Jeonghan knows this might not work and the entire fall line might have to be scrapped. He prays that his dead father in heaven isn’t looking down on him with shame. 

An anxiety-inducing hour passes by without a word from the style team and Jeonghan begins to doubt himself. He fucked up, he knows it in his gut. But just as he’s about to tell Junhui to scrap the entire operation, the stylists slam the door open. In their arms is a very pretty and very disgruntled Minghao, as he glares at the blond through his lined eyes. Junhui’s jaw drops as Minghao walks over and promptly punches Jeonghan in the arm. Hard. (Jeonghan lets out a cry of pain, much to Minghao’s delight). 

“Manicure!” Lizzy Park shouts, slapping Minghao’s hand away and dragging him to the dressing room. 

“I’m going to kill you Jeonghan!” Minghao shouts, stumbling over his two feet as he’s led into the dressing for final touch-ups. Inside the pair could hear Minghao shout something along the lines of “I can do that part— Hey! Don’t touch me there.” Junhui raises an eyebrow while Jeonghan doubles over in laughter, already knowing what’s happening there. He’s been in the younger’s position before (not for a modeling shoot, but for something much stupider like losing a bet against Seungcheol. Let’s just say after dressing up in drag, Jeonghan has a new found respect for professional drag queens), and the blond must admit, he looked hella hot as a girl. Thirty minutes later, Minghao appears, with his eyes lined into a black-winged tip and pouty red lips that fade towards the edges. He scowls at Jeonghan as he stumbles towards the shoot. 

Raina, god bless her naive heart, walks in and introduces herself to the pretty model, the one wearing such a beautiful checkered dress, a simple design by Jeonghan’s standards but still rather effective. “Do you know what to do?” Raina asks, setting up the studio. Minghao nods, trying hard not to dislodge the black wig the team of stylists worked so hard to place on his head. He shoots another glower at his boss, promising to get him back if it’s the last thing he does. 

* * *

The lunchroom seems rather stiff when Kai walks in after his math class - first of all, he didn’t have any time to talk to his seatmate (and obvious crush) JiWoo as she zoomed out of the room and disappeared to somewhere that he doesn’t know about. (If he’s honest, it’s probably towards the back end of the school where there was a supposed haunting, but Kai Huening is too much of a coward to actually go there to see for himself). So, he walks alone towards the cafeteria, tapping his fingers against his jeans along with one of the many songs his band TXT will be playing at homecoming four weeks from now. At least Soobin and Beomgyu are pumped for it, all Kai wants to do is curl up into a ball and sleep for like ever. Not since his mom is planning to sue his dad for custody rights. 

The drama of it all has given Kai intense stress, so much so that he’s been messing up his tempo and getting yelled at by Soobin and Yeonjun. He shakes those thoughts out of his head, trying to focus on the present. When he walks into the lunchroom, he cringes as all of his bandmates ambush him at the entrance. The member with dark hair that hangs just over his forehead, his dimples in full view from laughing, pauses as he squints at Kai.

“Heeeey,” Soobin Choi, his ‘good Christian’ friend, says. “Where’s my dealer? She has the good stuff!” That one comment causes Kai’s eyes to widen. Soobin has a mischievous grin on his face that gives off anything but a good Christian vibe.

“Wait, are you two doing drugs? In this family-friendly household?” TXT’s keyboardist and resident mother Taehyun blurts out; already feeling the disappointment running through his blood. And to think Soobin is the good kid, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was Yeonjun. Speaking of that punk Yeonjun, he didn’t turn up to school today, Taehyun will have to give him a good scolding in the group chat later. 

“Maybe some dinner rolls.” Soobin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as the group makes their way towards the back of the cafeteria - where they normally meet JiWoo, Seungkwan and Vernon. Lunchtime is when the cliques come together and congregate in the cafeteria. Sitting at the tables along the edges of the room are the popular kids and the various sports teams in a stupid hierarchy that only people in that crowd are aware of. However, neither JiWoo nor Seungkwan is there but Vernon is; his head lying facedown on the table as he uses his ratty backpack for a pillow as he sleeps. 

“Hey Vernon, where are your friends?” The bassist (and the official innocent boy) Beomgyu asks curiously, his big doll-like eyes staring deep into everyone’s soul. The boy in question raises his head, the dark bags under his eyes look darker against his ghostly pale skin. Vernon blinks languidly, stretching lazily like a cat. 

“JiWoo and Seungkwan?” he asks. The group nods, Kai leans forward, eagerly wanting to know where she is. “They got into a fight on Saturday and Seungkwan wasn’t feeling well enough to come to school. JiWoo… I dunno where she is.” 

“Ah man,” Soobin sighs, pulling out two cans of Cola out of his bag. “I’ll never get my dinner rolls now, what was the point!?” 

“Why are you trading cans of Cola!?” Taehyun shrieks, smacking Soobin in the arm. “Are you trying to give people diabetes or something!?” 

“Ow!” Soobin pouts, rubbing his arm. “Did you have to hit me that hard!?” The two begin to bicker as Kai pulls out his lunch, digging into his so-called rabbit food. 

Beomgyu swipes the two cans of Cola, rolling one over to Vernon. “You look like you need the caffeine.” The older nods in thanks, cracking the can open he downs half of it in one go, feeling the bubbles rush through his veins. “I wonder if JiWoo and Seungkwan will ever make up,” Beomgyu randomly says, cracking open the soda much to Soobin’s distress. Taehyun in the background laughs at his leader’s misfortune because that’s what you get when you promote bad drinking habits. 

“What do you mean?” Kai asks. “They don’t seem that close though?” 

Vernon raises an eyebrow at the oblivious drummer. “They’re, like, best friends man. How do you not know that?” 

“Don’t be mean to Hyuka,” Beomgyu whines, gulping down a mouthful of Cola before Soobin swipes it away to finish the rest. The younger member whines, shaking Soobin, trying to grab it back. 

“How is he— Never mind,” Taehyun says, waving it off. He leans forward to Vernon, who doesn’t look even phased by the comment, smiling lightly at the other members’ antics. “But, Hyuka here moved to AL-1 in sophomore year so he doesn’t even know.” Kai raises an eyebrow at Taehyun, who pats the taller boy on the head, muttering something that sounds like ‘there, there Hyuka. It’s okay to be stupid.’

“Yeah!” Soobin says, shoving Beomgyu onto the floor and downing the rest of the soda in one go. “JiWoo and Seungkwan have been best friends since she came to America. I’ve never seen them without one another so it’s weird that they had a fight.” 

Kai can’t help but think that there must be something more than just a petty fight. If Soobin is to be believed (and he should be considering he’s a good Christian boy who doesn’t lie that much), then the fight might’ve been over something super serious. He’s slightly determined to find out, so he pokes Vernon on the cheek. 

“Um… Not to be nosy or anything but… What was the fight about?” he murmurs, low enough for Vernon to hear but not loud enough for his idiot friends to butt in. 

Vernon blinks, unaware of the potential gossip that his confession provides. “Think it was over me and Seungkwan dating, and him believing she’s a homophobe or whatever.” Kai raises an eyebrow in disbelief; the love of his life, sun to his shine JiWoo Jeon is a potential homophobe.  _ That seriously can’t be true? _ But Vernon continues, “I dunno if that’s the case or not but... Seungkwan and I are a thing. We've been a thing for a year now and I dunno. When he told JiWoo, she kinda shut down. Like it was weird.”

“Whoa,” Beomgyu says, peeling himself off the gross cafeteria floor. “You and Seungkwan have been dating for like a year and no one knew? Wild.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Taehyun says, shoving Beomgyu off the seat and back onto the floor. “It’s so painfully obvious. Like Vernon would go to Seungkwan’s auditions and stuff. Not to mention, he got Seungkwan a dozen roses for Valentine’s Day.” 

“Of course Mister Student Body President would know,” Soobin retorts. “Hey, do you know when we have to have our setlist done? Homecoming is in four weeks.” 

“Next week.” The bell signaling the end of lunch rings above them, making Kai sigh. He didn’t get as much information as he wanted and now he’s being threatened by Soobin’s sky blue glitter pen not to mess anything up. As Kai gets up to leave, Vernon grabs onto the sleeve of his shirt and yanks him down to his height. 

“Can you, like, talk to JiWoo?” Vernon asks. “She doesn’t wanna talk to me and, yeah. If you could, I’d appreciate it a lot.” He slaps Kai on the back and leisurely strolls towards his next class. Kai stands there slightly dazed by that request before realizing that it’s an opportunity to talk to her outside of class without his friends attempting to be his personal wingmen. Now if only it isn’t going to be over a fight with her best friend. All he knows is that the conversation he’s going to have won’t be easy by any means. He wonders what to say when Taehyun jabs him in the side. 

“Come on loser, you’ll be late for class.” Kai takes off running after the elder, deciding that he’ll simply improvise something to say to her, cause that always works out  _ well _ in the end. 

* * *

Seungcheol cracks the crick in his neck, rubbing the sore, tense muscles as he flips through yet another old newspaper clipping about the missing people he’s investigating. As he suspected the five original missing persons in his investigation are dead - there’s no doubt about it. Ten years is normally enough to write off a person as dead given the circumstances. He does hold a small glimmer of hope that these five are alive somewhere in the world. But after reading this newspaper article (with the most alluring title in human history:  **Missing Five Found?** ), it makes Seungcheol wonder why he’s even part of this task force. 

**Missing Five Found? Not enough information**

**Early morning on** (the text is too faded to read even when Seungcheol places it on a microfilm)  **five bodies were discovered in the remote area of AL-1 near the** (the text is scratched out to the point the paper has been torn).  **Due to the severe decay of each body, investigators are unable to identify the victims, leaving many with unanswered questions about their missing loved ones. Many have suspected that the bodies are of** (the names are torn from the paper)  **a group of high schoolers who went missing** (the date has been scratched out) **, thirty-five year old** (there is a large ink stain on the victim’s name and occupation) **, and twenty-seven year old nurse** (another large ink stain covers the victim’s name and last known whereabouts).  **It is too early in the investigation to officially rule these bodies as the five missing people as of yet. More details are soon to come.**

Seungcheol flips to the next portion of the news article, surprised to see how little details there is on this discovery. Normally, victims’ identities are released into the public so that potential eye-witnesses are allowed to come forward with new information. Alas, there is no new update on the deceased identities, which makes Seungcheol’s job a lot harder than it needs to be. He slumps back into his chair and stares up at the ceiling, wondering if this case would ever be solved. Then, he remembers the file he got from Agent Han. 

Pulling out the massive stack of papers, he flips through each profile of the ‘participants’, scanning over the minor blurb of each until he reaches the files labelled: Subject 00019, Subject 00020, Subject 00021, Subject 00022, and Subject 00023. It’s the five missing people he’s looking for, if he digitally matches the faces in FEARLESS. But why did Sanghyuk send these files to Seungcheol when the initial report mentioned only eighteen participants? Were these experiments actually conducted by the government right under people’s noses? In fact, the majority of the victims seemed to be contractors - each one with a unique power while a small handful happen to be normal people. What was the government planning? 

As he reads the files, he fights the urge to vomit into the nearest trash can. There’s only so much the poor cold case detective can handle in one day. One of his many, many limits has to be the live disembowelment of a teenage girl, while another (the nurse) suffered in great agony as hydrofluoric acid is first injected into her blood stream then steadily poured down her throat. Seungcheol suddenly feels horrifically dizzy as he continues to read the torture that each victim was subjected to. He’s not sure which one is worse; hobbling a human (which is the act of crushing the bones of a person’s ankles and feet so they cannot walk); forced electroshock therapy or having hot, boiling oil poured onto various body parts. 

After a while, it stops being an experiment and turns into torture of another human being. If this  _ is  _ true, then where are the bodies? And why did the government try to cover it up? The mystery deepens as Seungcheol digs deeper and at this rate, he’s too far in to turn around. The only logical thing to do is to continue, even if it might get him killed in the end. 

* * *

The changing weather that plagues this city must be beginning to get to him - Joshua’s head feeling like it’s being split apart by a sledgehammer. He looks up at his bedroom ceiling, trying to sleep his migraine away to no avail; it comes back stronger than ever before. He gently touches his head, wincing when a simple touch sends shooting pains throughout his body like he’s being ripped apart from the head down. A small saw digging its way through his skin, ripping away his sensitive nerve endings and meticulously pulling apart his muscle. He lets out a whimper, struggling to sit up from his bed. The more he moves the worst the headache gets, like someone or something is trying desperately to claw their way out. 

Joshua’s hands weakly flail, trying to find the bottle of painkillers he had leftover from his wisdom teeth surgery - sitting up and pouring out the large white pill. He pops one in, chasing it down with water and lies back down, waiting for it to kick in. His eyes close, waiting patiently but before he knows it, he’s somewhere else. 

Surrounding him is nothing but greenery, large, luscious oak trees. A pleasant breeze drifts over him, ruffling his dark brown; like a mother brushing her fingers over a child’s forehead comforting. Joshua yearns for that kind of luxury, his memories feeling fuzzy like a distorted picture. Where did he come from? Who are his parents? Is anyone missing him? 

“ _ I am, _ ” a voice says, echoing in the distance. Joshua opens his eyes, rolling his head to stare up at the bright blue sky. His soft brown eyes watch the thin white clouds leisurely float through. His mouth quirks up into a serene smile, his melancholic emotions melting away like the first day of spring after a cold, brutal winter. 

“ _ I’m missing you, _ ” the voice says again, the wind picking up, the clouds darkening in a second. The leaves swirl around Joshua, pushing him off the road and onto the grass. He lifts his head up, and looks around, wondering where the voice is coming from. 

“Stop it,” Joshua says, trying to carry his voice over the roaring wind. “Stop ruining this for me! Who are you!?” The wind then dies down, returning back to that beautiful, elegant breeze. He pushes himself up, his legs trembling as he heads back onto the deserted road. 

“ _ You don’t know me? _ ” 

“Am I supposed to?” 

There’s silence; all sound in his dream simply disappears; leaving nothing but dead space. There’s a break in his dream state; cracking right down the middle. Joshua swallows, looking over at the crack curiously. He can’t see anything, besides the wavy image of the trees in the background, as if he’s staring down into a rippling lake. 

“ _ Can’t you see? I’m— _ ”

The sound of his alarm scares Joshua out his dream - if he could call it that - jerking him out of his bed, legs tangled in the sheets. His eyes widen as he cautiously looks around the room; his heart pounding frantically in his chest, reaching his ears. It’s like a drum pounding right next to his ear as if he’s back in the university band. He holds onto his chest, bending over slightly and breathing heavily, he could feel nothing but sweat dripping down his back, soaking his t-shirt and his bangs. 

What the heck was that dream? Joshua’s hands tremble, his body shaking as he slips out of his bed, almost stumbling as he makes his way to the bathroom. After taking a few shaky steps; he topples onto the ground, clutching his heart once more, feeling it pick up nothing but speed. His stomach churns, wanting to expel everything he’d eaten (which is practically nothing) out. His resolve weakens when his body begins to shut down but doesn’t, as if it’s in a state of constant war. One part of him wants to crawl back into bed, the other wants him to expel all the toxicity in his body. 

“Calm down,” he whispers, closing his eyes as his arms tremble violently against the plush carpet. “Please, just calm down. I-I can’t… I just need you to  _ please  _ calm down.” He remains on the ground of his carpeted floor - practicing the breathing exercises Minhyun had taught him years before - and forcing the bile down while pushing away the nausea. It takes him an hour to calm down enough to feel okay, and another half an hour for him to walk without feeling like a newborn giraffe. When he stumbles into the bathroom he looks up at himself in the mirror, his eyes widening at what he sees. 

Instead of himself in the mirror, there seems to be another person looking back at him; their eyes cold and grey, corrupted as the man in the mirror flashes Joshua a sinister smile. The man looks like Joshua, mimics the actions Joshua does, except the aura around him is dark. Like there’s black fog simmering through. The real Joshua takes a step back, almost tripping over his feet as the mirror begins to leak out what looks like blacken tar. It drips over his counter and sink, dyeing everything in hate; eroding the porcelain away. He can see smoke from the items the tar touches. 

“Wh-Who are you?” Joshua asks. The man in the mirror tilts his head, strands of grey hair falling over his dead eyes. 

“ _ Do you really want to know? _ ” And before the other could respond, the man reaches out and touches the glass with his icy hands. Suddenly, there’s a sound akin to a gunshot going off and instinctively Joshua shuts his eyes, shielding himself away from what might happen. But he pauses, slowly looking up when there’s no pain on his body. When he finally opens his eyes, a gasp and a hard knock against his back from the tiled wall, push the last remaining shred of sanity out of him. Though the hallucinatory tar is gone, something much more evil remains, marking its presence much to the barista’s affliction. 

In front of him, right down the middle of the bathroom mirror is a large jagged crack; like the one he saw in his dream. He lets out a bloodcurdling scream, falling back and scrambling away from it. 

Just then, by some saving grace, his phone blares from his bedroom, allowing him to escape. The demon in the mirror simply grins. 

“ _ Don’t be scared. I’m going to be with you… Forever. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I love Seokmin - he's the best sunshine boy around. 
> 
> Stream Home Run


	9. Cause Your Don't Understand Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Can't You See Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMFHUTJ13Ys) by TXT
> 
> If you're unsure of any of the songs mentioned in the chapter, just shoot us a comment! :)
> 
> Also, Chan is six, leave his grammar alone ~ Lithium012

When lunchtime rolls around a few days later, Kai feels like a ball of anxious energy; from his crush’s terrible mood (seriously, she was glaring at her math notebook) to Vernon’s request, the worry laced in the older boy’s voice, something that normally isn’t in someone so chill. So, Kai walks through the crowded hallways with a purpose. If his hunch is correct, JiWoo would avoid the cafeteria. There are too many people and too many ears and loose mouths for someone who just wants to be alone. 

But narrowing down the area that JiWoo might be hiding proves to be harder than Kai thinks. For a moment, he thinks about giving up (after running around the third floor) and decides to head down towards the unoccupied band room TXT normally practices in. He thinks he could get some extra practice in before lunch is over as he shoves open the door. His entire body freezes when he hears the calming melody of the piano. Suddenly, his throat goes dry as JiWoo’s nimble fingers dance across the keys - picking up speed and aggression with every chord she plays. The heavy wooden door slips out of Kai’s fingers and slams shut with a loud _bang_ , scaring her into an abrupt stop. 

Her shoulders suddenly hunch over like she’s angry with everything living under the sun. Kai feels like he’s trying to poke a stray cat; he’s walking on eggshells. 

“Uh…” he says. _Smooth Kai_. “JiWoo, are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she snaps, her fingers shaking on the white keys. Kai carefully walks over, throwing his backpack onto the floor next to hers and slips into the empty space next to her. He’s so close that he could see the narrowing of her eyes and smells the scent of her cucumber melon shampoo. He swallows, unsure of what to say next. 

“Are you sure? You’ve been glaring a lot lately… You know you can talk to me right? I’m here for you.”

He sees her visibly relax, her hands straightening out a bit. “Okay. Thanks.” The silence that follows after is awkward - there’s no music playing around them, just the sound of the radiator buzzing in the background. Kai squirms a bit in his seat - unsure of what to say. There’s the obvious elephant sitting in the room but he’s not entirely sure how to approach the topic without fucking it up. He internally debates over his choices and decides that being blunt is the only viable option in this situation. 

“So, where are your friends? I literally haven’t seen Seungkwan all week and I thought Vernon was gonna stick around today… I guess not. Which is weird cause I saw him in science earlier,” he dumbly says, remembering how surprised he was when Vernon walked through the science classroom doors, knowing the older is prone to skipping class whenever. 

JiWoo simply scoffs, her voice instantly bitter at the mere mention of her friends. “Don’t know, don’t care.” Her childish behaviour only proves something did happen between her and her friends. 

“Aren’t you guys—” He stops when she glares at him, remembering that they’re all on bad terms with each other. Good job Kai, you had one job and you somehow fucked that one up. “Oh. Um... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rub you the wrong way. Did they do something to make you upset?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, to be honest.” Kai could feel frustration bubbling up in his chest - remembering all the times he closed himself out to his dad after the divorce. But that never made him feel any better - the words would constantly choke him until he runs to his dad in tears, blubbering everything that’s been sitting on his chest. Hell, he just did that… last week when his embarrassing feelings about his crush got too much. 

He swallows, carefully chewing on his next few words, “You’re making it hard for people to sympathize with you if you’re not willing to talk to them about the situation. Maybe they might help you feel better, get that weight off your chest. I know my dad makes me do it… to my stuffed animals when I was young.” He pauses, wondering if he should just admit to his previous week of shame. Well, what does he have to lose besides his dignity? “Or last week.”

The comment seems to make her laugh as she suddenly pokes him in the side. “Well, you’re not exactly a stuffed animal, now are you?”

“I’m the next best thing. I’m Kai!” If any of his bandmates were in here right now, they’d laugh him to Kansas by the next morning, but goddamn, he is doing it all out of love! So, he makes a heart out of his arms and tilts his head cutely. All in the name of love and happiness. What has Kai’s life come to? 

His smile grows wide when he sees a tint of red dust the apples of her cheeks, he’s confident that she's blushing because, after the two years spent admiring her, he knows JiWoo Jeon never wears blush. He watches her hide her laughter, rolling her eyes playfully before sighing. She stares down at the piano and rests a finger on one of the keys, softly pressing down. 

“Well, Kai, if you must know, I got into a fight with Seungkwan about something… and apparently he thinks we shouldn’t be friends anymore.” She plays a few more notes. Kai thinks about it, wondering where he’s heard that melody before. _One of Yeonjun’s emo songs he keeps spamming me with? What was it again? Welcome to… something parade?_ As much as it pains him to see her look so dejected, he doesn’t hold back on prying.

“What was the fight about? Since that sounds serious if he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore.”

“So, it’s a really strange story, but…” She shifts on the piano bench to face him properly, something that catches him off guard at first. His eyes go wide as she leans in close and begins to speak softly, nearing a whisper. He understands now why she might have wanted to keep her voice down, even if they’re the only two in the room at the moment. As people say, loose lips sink ships. 

She leans back, pulling her right leg into a folded position, her left leg hanging off the piano bench. He takes a moment to examine her body language. She seems tense and anxious with her left leg slightly bouncing off the floor, her eyes darting between him and the music room door. It’s like she’s afraid they’ll get caught talking about something forbidden. And that makes him wonder.

“Is it the idea of two guys almost kissing is weird or…?” He can recall the times he accidentally walked in on his father kissing his boyfriend (Four times!), and while at first, it was a bit strange, scratch that, it was more embarrassing than weird. No one wants to walk in on their parents getting fresh with their partner, _no one._ The trauma is very real in Kai’s world. 

“Well, no, it’s just,” she says, avoiding eye contact now. He can tell she’s struggling to come up with the words, her head low, fingers fiddling with the laces of her black and white Converse. “PDA and relationships just make me uncomfortable, so I just… you know?” Their eyes meet at the last second before she turns her head to stare at the piano once more. He could tell there’s something more in her eyes but he wasn’t given the chance to figure it out before she broke eye contact. However, her cryptic wording is confusing him. 

“Uh… I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand what you’re trying to say.” Because no one can read minds, but at this moment he wished he really could. It would make life so much easier. “How is this related to you and Seungkwan fighting?” He’s just confused about why seeing her brother and an employee from the bakery would cause them to fight. There’s no linkage between the two but then he thinks back on his small conversation with Vernon on Monday.

“ _I dunno if this is true or not but... Seungkwan and I are a thing. We've been a thing for a year now and I dunno. When he told JiWoo, she kinda shut down. Like it was weird. All I want is for them to be friends again. I don’t like this tension._ ”

He’s still a bit shocked by Vernon dropping that well-kept secret so casually but he supposes that piece of information is pertinent to the situation. Why would she react like that? Unless… “Do you actually like Vernon?” he asks, trying his best to say it without bitterness; after all, jealousy isn’t a trait anyone wants. This isn’t something he thought he’d be asking her directly but here they are. _It’d make sense if she does. I’d be upset too if I found out I had no chances with the one I like._ He’s dreading what her answer will be. When he looks up, he sees her staring at him like he just offended her and her great-great ancestors and her great-great-great ancestors’ cows. 

“No.” Her tone is blunt. Despite the harsh reply, he feels a little relieved, as selfish as that may sound. “No, it’s not like that at all. It’s just… I guess I felt lied to. I felt betrayed and not trustworthy, like why didn’t they tell me sooner? I thought I knew them but...” Her expression softens into a look of hurt and sadness, it’s enough to make Kai’s own heart ache. She looks so lonely all of a sudden, but he tries to push those feelings of pity aside because what she just said doesn’t sit well with him. Especially when he thinks back to his own father. 

“Why do they have to tell you?” He’s met with no response, just silence and an irritated look on her face. “Since you said relationships make you uncomfortable. Maybe they didn’t want you to feel awkward around them. I mean, I felt pretty awkward when my dad first came out but he didn’t tell me until I was older you know?” 

“So you think they were going to wait to tell me until I was sixty-years-old? When I’m _older?_ ” she asks, her words even more blunt and harsh. “You know what, I honestly think you don’t get it at all. So what the hell is the point of talking to you?” She grabs her bag and storms off, leaving Kai sitting there stunned at the interaction. 

_Maybe I could have phrased my words a little differently?_ He simply shakes his head knowing it wouldn’t have made a difference. From what he can tell from their conversation just now, JiWoo is stubborn about the subject matter. There was probably no chance he wouldn’t have fucked up in the end. 

He lets out a pitiful laugh at himself before covering his face and groaning. His head falls onto the piano, a mix of notes playing randomly as if it’s his own sound effects in a cartoon. The thought of making his crush hate him when he was only trying to help has him defeated. “She’s never going to talk to me again!” His hands slide off the piano and dangle at his sides, his forehead still pressed into the white keys. A sad symphony to mask his broken heart.

The door to the music room opens, causing Kai to lift up his head. The elderly janitor who was totally in a biker gang years ago walks in blasting some kind of death metal music. _Are you sure it’s not Yeonjun disguised as a janitor?_ The man looks over at the teary high school student and shouts, “Leave kid! I need to mop up your tears! If you’re in the room all you do is create more tears for me! Cry somewhere else!” Kai quickly leaves the room, not wanting to cause more work for the scary janitor with his tears. 

* * *

Miss Ava stretches on Chan’s bed, rubbing her scent glands on his pillow, dinosaur, and blanket - letting all the other cats know that this is her human and the tiny boy belongs to her. The boy in question stirs, blinking away the sleep that consumed him the night before. Internally, Miss Ava coos (perhaps it’s because she’s heavily pregnant with what she feels is four kittens but she’s not entirely sure) at the sight. It’s rather late for Chan to be awake, considering it’s a school day and the time on his digital clock reads six forty-five am. She paws at his cheek, her body on his chest as he blinks at her. 

“Miss Ava,” he croaks out, his throat sore from an illness he caught recently. “I don’t wanna go to school.” She cocks her head to the side, meowing as a response. She knows he couldn’t understand her but she still responds anyway because she thinks it’s the polite thing to do. Chan doesn’t reply right away, giving the Persian a nice head rub, scratching right behind her ear, just how she likes it. 

“The kids at school are so mean to me,” he whines, rubbing that one spot she couldn’t get because of how pregnant she is. Her tail flicks in contentment, purring when she feels Chan rubbing that particular itchy spot. “They say mean things about me, like how my mama don’t love me.” Miss Ava freezes at that confession, her large eyes flicking upwards to meet Chan’s. The kid’s eyes are closed once more, burying himself under the covers and feigning illness as Jeonghan pokes his head in. 

“Hey buddy,” he says softly, walking over and rubbing Chan’s hair. Miss Ava takes this opportunity to rub her scent glands on him (there’s been the scent of another cat rubbing up against her owner and she’s totally not okay with that). “Good morning Princess.” Jeonghan reaches over and rubs that other itchy spot on Miss Ava, much to her pleasure. “How are my two babies this morning?” Chan lets out a croak, still sounding horrible. When Miss Ava waddles over his chest and presses her paw to his forehead, she jumps back. His forehead feels like the giant heated bed (she’s told that it’s called a laptop, but to her, it’s a nice warm bed) Jeonghan carries around but whenever that bed gets too hot it feels like a raging storm. 

Jeonghan frowns, grabbing the digital temporal thermometer, running it across the child’s forehead - the reading comes back 100.4 F (38.0 C). “You’re running a small fever,” he says, looking at the thermometer. “No school for you today.” He ruffles Chan’s sweaty hair again, not seeing the grin that Chan has hiding under the covers. Miss Ava blinks, staring at the two before wiggling herself under the blankets and curling up next to Chan. Jeonghan says something but she couldn’t hear it, not when the rhythmic sound of Chan’s beating heart and the warmth of the blanket lulls her into a quick cat-nap. After all, it’s never too early for a nice nap. (Plus, she’s a cat, what the hell is she supposed to do with her time anyways?)

But something Chan said to her earlier bothers her, enough for her to start reliving the memories of a much younger Chan. 

_It’s three in the afternoon when the front door to the penthouse apartment (gifted by Jeonghan’s late father) opens and loud voices - one being Jeonghan’s and the other being Seungcheol’s as Miss Ava has come to realize - comes bustling in. There’s a third voice too that echoes through the air - the sound of a very young child’s. Instantly, Miss Ava is on guard, her fur fluffing up as she watches the crowd from her perch by the window, tail curling around her. Her eyes narrow as her ears flatten at the newcomer; a little boy cradled in Jeonghan’s (her human!) arms._

“Miss Ava!” _he calls out cheerfully._ “I’m home! And I brought you a friend!” _She doesn’t need another human to control, she has Jeonghan. So why is there a little boy in his arms and why does the little boy look so… Is that confusion or is it sadness? She’s not sure but she doesn’t like the way the boy clings onto her human’s neck like he depends on it. There’s a loud thumping in the background as Seungcheol stumbles in with a suitcase and a million shopping bags._

“Jeonghan, _” Seungcheol croaks out._ “A little help would be nice.” 

“Oh right!” _Said man places the little boy down on the carpet, ruffling his hair._ “Stay here Channie, uncle will be right back.” _He hurries off, leaving the smaller human - Channie, Miss Ava thinks - to stare at her while he holds onto his oversized toy. Miss Ava stares back, flicking her tail every so often. Her eyes never leave the kid’s even when Jeonghan returns to get him, nor does the kid make any advances towards her._

 _She mentally smirks._ Yeah, that’s right, this is my human. _And life should’ve proceeded like normal, but that doesn’t seem to happen. Not when she lives with the man who is, admittedly, less than normal in all the right ways. It takes a week for her to finally accept that this little thing isn’t planning to leave any time soon._

_Late into the dusk, when the stars begin to bleed into the navy blue sky, Miss Ava purrs contently as she feels Jeonghan’s fingers untangle some of the knots in her fur._

“You know Miss Ava,” _he begins sleepily._ “I’m glad you and Chan are getting along, kind of. But… I assume you’re wondering why he’s here.” _He swallows and it sounds ragged - like he wants to cry or something._ “His father said he couldn’t take care of him anymore and you know, dropped him off with me. His mom… my sister… died while giving birth to him. So, please, just don’t let him be alone.” _Miss Ava, speechless, lays her head down on her paws, curling up on her bed. Being alone is something she still remembers all too well and it still, unfortunately, stings despite it being_ years _now._

Maybe that’s why she slowly accepted the boy into her life. Even now, watching him sleep off the fever, she places a paw onto his forehead, silently telling him that she won’t let anything happen to him. Just like she promised him three years ago when that stupid dog came running out of nowhere and barreled a three-year-old Chan. She thinks her cat vest should say “Mess with my family and you’ll get the paw” or something like that so people know she means business. 

She sniggers at the thought, once again, curling up against Chan - it’s nearing noon now, which means it’s time for her mid-day nap (who knew having babies meant that she’d be napping a lot). She closes her eyes, suddenly thrown into a memory of her time as a stray, a year before Jeonghan found her and took her home (despite the fact she gave him a nasty scar on his forearm). 

_It’s dark and scary when a younger, more agile Miss Ava scurries into a cardboard box in search of something decent to eat. The past few days, there’s been nothing but molding food that would make her sick if she tries to consume it. Her poor belly is grumbling and the hunger pains are making sleep unbearable. She’s exhausted from running away from bratty kids who think it’s funny to throw sticks at her, and hungry from the lack of non-moldy food that’ll make her vomit if she even thinks about eating it. This year is just not her year._

_As she curls up in the box, she lifts her nose - sniffing the air. The smell of chicken wafts through and following her nose, she carefully crawls out and follows the scent to another alleyway - this one looking horrendously grimy but at this point, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She crawls towards the dumpster, next to the kitchen where the smell is the strongest - but just as she does, the kitchen door flings open and another scent fills her senses._

_Instinctively, she arches herself and puffs up her matted fur to make herself look a tad bigger. But it fools no one as the cat-like man, the man covered head to toe in blood; only showing how white his teeth are in contrast to the dark red, walks over._

“Here, here,” _he calls sweetly, his voice completely devoid of life._ “I have something for you, little one.” _With that, he throws her a drumstick and when she’s too busy devouring it, he gives her a nice rub behind her ears. That’s when she feels it, the radiation of energy - it feels like static electricity - coursing through her veins. As if she’s long been awakened from a long slumber._ Only this time, it feels all too real for it to be a dream. 

* * *

Music - specifically My Chemical Romance - blares through JiWoo’s skull shaped headphones as she scrolls through Chitter, liking the superstar Ren’s messages and ignoring the world around her. That’s why she doesn’t hear her bedroom door opening and Yeonjun dramatically shouting, “It’s me, ya boy Daniel”. When she doesn’t answer, he crawls up on her bed and air yeets her phone away, causing her to let out a shrill shriek that rivals Seungkwan’s. 

“You scared the shit out of me, oh my god. I almost had a heart attack!” Yeonjun simply laughs at her expression before he yelps and ends up knocked down on his ass. “Don’t laugh, you fucking punk! I’ll hurt you!” She huffs, pulling her headphones off and shaking her hair out of her face. “I told you to fucking text me before coming here.” 

“Well, I got a new phone recently and I lost all my contacts. I asked Kai if he could let you know I was coming by today, but I see he failed.” 

“Why couldn’t you just tell me yourself at P.E?” 

“I wasn’t there, I was suspended,” he says casually while picking himself up off the floor. He’s met with JiWoo’s shocked expression, eyes bugging out, jaw dropping to the floor. “No one noticed I was missing all week? Damn, do I feel loved!” he adds on sarcastically with a bitter smile. “I sure missed a lot in just a week: heard you and Booyoncé got into a nasty fight, you’re ignoring Vernon and you made my poor Hyuka cry, no telling who else you crushed with your sharp words while I was away.” JiWoo’s eyes narrow into a glare, looking insulted. “So, you don’t seem to want to talk to anyone these days, but do you wanna talk to me?” He grins obnoxiously; she wants to punch him in the face again. 

“No.” There was no hesitation with her answer like she was ready to shut it all down before things could even start.

“Too bad, we’re gonna have a nice lovely talk, just the two of us!” He backs up to the bedroom door, shutting it behind himself and sits down. “No running away cause I know you’re going to because you’re a fucking coward. So please, sit while I’m asking nicely.” 

“Don’t threaten me, I’ll fucking sue your ass for harassment,”

“Go ahead and sue me then, I’ll just tell the judge I was just trying to help you figure shit out, Jesus Christ.” She folds her arms over her chest and turns away without a response to that. “Listen, I heard from Kai that you were being a mega-bitch towards him the other day—”

“He called me a bitch!?” She whips around, offended. 

“No, he’d never say such a thing!” he clarifies. “I’m just saying it sounds like you were being a mega-bitch to him. Look, you only have two options here: You can either go throughout high school being a sad lonely bitch with no one on your side to talk to or you can actually _talk_ to someone who kinda gets you and your way of thinking? That’s me, by the way.” He points to himself and she snickers before more silence ensues. Yeonjun really tried to be patient, but after five minutes he couldn’t take it anymore. “Fine! You know what, let’s go for a walk instead. I’ll buy you some coke, maybe that will help get your brain working?” 

“Cola right?” JiWoo asks with narrowed eyes.

“Maybe,” he answers teasingly. 

“I don’t do drugs!”

“I know, I was only joking, calm down— Ow, stop hitting me!”

“Stop saying stupid shit then!” she huffs before leading the way out of her room. When they exit the apartment, the elevator ride is tense and awkward as Yeonjun whistles a familiar tune while JiWoo thinks about everything that happened in the past week. They arrived at the front lobby shortly after. Yeonjun strolls out of the elevator like no big deal as JiWoo exits like a stealthy ninja. Paranoid about being caught like she’s some wanted criminal. The chances of running into those she’s hurt are slim, WonWoo is busy on campus, Seungkwan and Vernon live in Sector A-2 and as for Kai— 

“Will you relax?” Yeonjun sighs when he feels her gripping onto the back of his hoodie, using him as some kind of shield to protect her from the public. He thinks it’s a bit ridiculous if you ask him. What, are the people going to start throwing tomatoes at her or something?

They walk in silence for a short while until they come across one of the outdoor vending machines near Sector Zero. Yeonjun buys her one as promised before they take a seat on one of the public benches down the sidewalk to rest. Yeonjun stuffs his hands into his pockets and pulls out his phone, playing one of his ‘emo’ songs in the middle of the street. Does he actually care? Not really. Plus, JiWoo looks like she needs a nice dose of sad ass music. 

_Well if you wanted honesty that’s all you had to say_

_I never want to let you down or have you go it’s better off this way_

_I’m not okay_

JiWoo snickers as the song continues to play. Leave it to Yeonjun to pick the perfect theme song as she sits there drinking her can of Coke, her mind slowly filling up with complex thoughts about the entire situation. The next verse of lyrics really speaks to her and gets her mind going, finally. 

_What will it take to show you that it’s not the life it seems_

_I’ve told you time and time again you sing along but don’t know what it means_

_To be a joke and look, another line without a hook,_

_I held you close as we both shook for the last time, take a good hard look_

_I’m not okay._

“Goddamn it, are you really gonna go through life with everyone hating you because you don’t know how to speak what’s on your mind? Tell me, does that even make you happy?” Yeonjun blurts out during the guitar solo in the song. JiWoo simply looks at him, thinking about it. For the past week, she’s been avoiding the situation, trying to distract herself from getting angry all over again to the point she’s wondering why she was even angry in the first place. 

It forces her to think back on the fight, recalling the order of events, the things Seungkwan said, Kai said, her brother said. Even the things she’s said in response. The image of her brother and Mingyu in the compromising situation begins to surface; she notices it still makes her uncomfortable to think of after her brother admitted he might be gay which tells her he might have feelings for Mingyu upon that realization, but it’s not necessarily the sexual orientation that’s bothering her. She puts herself back into that moment when she heard WonWoo say it, how confused yet scared he sounded like he was going to break and shatter into a million pieces if she so much as looked at him too harshly.

“ _And coming out is really hard you know? People lose their loved ones over being who they are. Maybe they weren’t ready to tell you. And those secrets are rather… life-changing for people. Cause, what happens if you don’t accept them and they came out? You know their darkest secret and could use it against them,_ ” is what Kai had told her.

 _But I would never use that against them, I would never do anything to try and hurt them just because…_ “Do you really want to end up like me? I’m this fucking moody ass teenager who barely talks to his own brother. And we live in the same fucking city. I never contact him first, it’s always him who calls me or writes to me first. Do you really want that? Except I don’t think anyone will want to be contacting you after all this.” Those words stab JiWoo in her heart, twisting into a deep painful pulsating wound. 

“But, words are hard for me, okay? It seems like no matter what I say, people always misunderstand me. When I try to clarify, I just make it worse until there’s no return, they’ve already made a final judgment and by then, I just can’t deal with it anymore. So I let it go before it makes me go insane.” 

“That’s a fucking weak excuse if I’ve ever heard one.” He scoffs. “ _Words are hard for me, boohoo_. Yeah, well, words are hard for everyone else too. You’re not the only one who struggles with words. But you giving up is the reason why everyone is so upset with you. It’s like you don’t even try to redeem yourself.” Just as she’s about to retort, he repeats what she just said, about letting it go before it makes her go insane. 

She sits there, speechless for a moment. _Yeah, I see where I went wrong now._ Instead of listening, instead of trying to understand Seungkwan’s feelings, she didn’t. She walked away before even trying to understand as she claims. Leaving when things get too confusing, no wonder why she’s so shit at math, she gives up too easily when things get difficult. 

“JiWoo Jeon, start talking.” Yeonjun snaps her out of her sad train of thought. “Tell me everything, I’ll listen. Tell me why? And I’ll try to understand. Try to use your words, I’ll somehow decipher it.” She looks at him, her harsh expression softening at his gentle smile he flashes her upon eye contact. Even if he started things strong, at the end of the day he knows they need to use their words. They don’t need to shout and fight; they don’t need to sit there and point and accuse; they just need to talk without brutally judging or criticizing her every word. She doesn’t need to feel attacked, she needs to feel heard and understood regardless if she’s right or wrong. So she begins to talk, finally. 

There aren’t many people out and about this early evening to eavesdrop on them, all but one who’s hiding around the corner nearby. Yeonjun can tell by the long fluffy brown locks that it must be Kai, and it is Kai when he peeks around and accidentally makes eye contact with Yeonjun - who grins. He doesn’t call out to him, not wanting to ruin JiWoo’s momentum and instead listens to her side of the story, all her views, and feelings without saying a word because it’s her turn to talk. He lets her vent about it until she’s left in a sobbing mess of tears. 

“I honestly don’t care if they’re gay, if I had, don’t you think I would have had an issue with Jihoon being engaged to your brother? All I wanted to know was why the hell I was seeing less and less of them, that was all. Telling me they’re a thing and they wanted to spend time together would have helped instead of keeping me in the dark thinking I fucked up somewhere down the line and that they hate me. I know I can be antisocial sometimes but… how many days I spent sitting in my room like an idiot, waiting for them to text me. As if I was like some sad little puppy waiting for her masters to come take her for a walk…” Finally, the truth comes to the light and the heavy weight on her chest starts to lift after getting it out all. 

“You should have sent me a message!” he whines, nudging his shoulder with hers. “I would have taken you on a walk and stuffed you with treats!” His comment at least makes her giggle before she lets out a deep sigh.

“It was lonely, it seemed like everyone had something or someone they were busy with. I tried not to let it get to me but… at the end of the day, I’m still human, and I still need other human interactions. But it’s difficult when I say or do something and people misunderstand me, then it causes this weird drama and my first reaction is just to step back, avoid everything so I don’t repeat the same issues. I start to think I’m better off just being alone but I don’t want that.” 

“See, this is why you need to speak up. Maybe this all could have been avoided if you just asked what was up?”

“You really think it would have just been that easy?” Her tone turns bitter, causing him to let out a strained laugh and facepalms in frustration. What a rollercoaster he’s on. No wonder Kai started to bawl the second he told Yeonjun everything. “It wasn’t exactly something I was interested in asking about in the first place. Out of Seungkwan and I, who really should have said something first?” 

“Fair enough but still,” he mutters, shrugging. 

“And that ass really tried to put the blame on me for having to hide his relationship.”

“So it’s only his fault, right?” She avoids eye contact, her bottom lip jutting out into a pout, like a scolded child. “It sounds like you’re to blame here too, not just Seungkwan.”

“Yeah, I know that now.” She sighs, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive, but they put me on the spot asking things like that all of a sudden, and my mind was just… overwhelmed.”

“Can I ask you something?” Yeonjun asks calmly. She simply nods in reply. “Would it have made a difference if Mingyu was a girl instead of a guy?” She stops to think about that. She pictures a girl, possibly that red-haired girl from WonWoo’s class, Chyenne, or whatever. The feelings she felt don’t change, not in the slightest. She’s still uneasy and still protective despite the switch. Even if the conversation would have been totally different, her reaction would have still remained the same. _Who the hell are you and what are you doing with my brother?_ It still makes her uncomfortable regardless of who it was, but the fact it was Mingyu, a guy, just made it seem like that was the issue. And unfortunately, that was the only thing everyone latched on to during the arguments. 

“No, it wouldn’t have made a difference actually… because that’s not why I was upset in the first place. It was just easier for everyone to assume it was something else. I just… My brother is the only person I have here in America. Sure I have my friends but as far as family goes, WonWoo is all I have. Our parents are still overseas back in Korea and it’s not easy to meet with them or talk with them because of the time differences. And lately, there’s been a gap growing between us. I think when I saw what happened I got… scared. I got scared that someone will be taking my brother away from me. I don’t want to be selfish and keep my brother from pursuing a life he wants just because I don’t understand and because I’m uncomfortable with seeing him or my friends in relationships… and maybe it’s because I’m lonely.”

“Perhaps are you afraid to see them get hurt? You’re afraid they’ll be heartbroken?” Yeonjun reaches out to give JiWoo a gentle back rub when she silently nods and drops her head, tears spilling from her eyes again. “You’re also scared they’ll forget about you too? And so that’s what you’ve been wanting to say this whole time, isn’t it?” She nods again as he pulls her over to lean on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her, hugging her from the side to comfort her. 

“I get that, it’s not fun. It probably felt like you were singled out, huh?” he asks as she calms down next to him. “But you know saying ‘I don’t know how to explain myself’ doesn’t really help. because guess what? Neither does half the population, that’s why divorces still happen. Look, I ain’t saying that you have to be the bad guy or whatever. What I’m saying is that you gotta acknowledge your role in this argument too. Of course, they gon’ hide it because they know it makes you uncomfortable - have you ever considered… I dunno compromising? Don’t think you ever told them, ‘Hey, even though relationships are scary and stuff, I still would like a heads up if you’re dating. Just spare me the gross details!’ People don’t gotta tell you everything but letting them know you’re here for them is a good thing so you don’t feel like you’re being left out and they don’t feel like walking on eggshells. Plus, aren’t you even happy for them? If you were, you could’ve said that!” He bumps his shoulders with hers again, earning himself a guilty groan.

“You being sweet and nice didn’t last very long,” she snickers, earning an obnoxious laugh from him. “See, that’s what I also wanted to say… tell me without telling me too much. But when I said it, it just came out all wrong. Instead, it came out sounding so hypocritical. I just don’t understand it.”

“Don’t understand what? Gay people?”

“No, not that, relationships. Commitment. I don’t understand how people can commit to the strangers they love. I don’t mean strangers quite literally but… Friendships are difficult as is. They can come and go when you least expect it. Even family isn’t a guarantee. Couples break up all the time, they get married then get divorced, it’s nothing like the movies and novels I enjoy. It’s scary to think of how much time and effort you put into any relationship only for it to all come crashing down over something you did or said. Seungkwan said we shouldn’t be friends anymore over this situation and I keep trying to think back on why it happened in the first place. Was I wrong to feel the way I felt when I saw what was happening? Was I wrong to question what was going on? Was I wrong to feel agitated at the baker and protective over my brother?”

“No, no, and no. You had every right to feel the way you felt. And it’s not like Boo and the others were right to judge you so quickly about it. Maybe you didn’t express yourself clearly and they didn’t ask the right questions? It’s not like I would wanna sit there and be accused of something I didn’t do but that’s why you’re supposed to speak up and correct them, not let them misunderstand you further by backing out and running away. When you do that it only gives them more reason to believe in that misunderstanding even more, right?” JiWoo looks like a scolded child the way she sits there with her head low, a pout on her lips. 

“Anyway, you don’t gotta understand relationships. It’s just confusing you know? But in the end, it’s totally worth it. I wasn’t totally okay with it when I heard Seungcheol was gon’ get married, but guess what? When I met his fiance I thought, I’m gon’ hate this man with all my heart. And then I saw how my brother looked at him like he held the _entire_ galaxy in his hands. That’s when I realized that my brother’s happiness is even better than my own. And that made me really happy too. It’s weird sure, but he’s happy so it cancels each other out.”

She pauses, allowing his words to soak into her mind. It’s like everything is clicking together. “I think I understand it now when you put it that way… I know now that if I continue this way, I’m only going to end up hurting and pushing everyone away and become a lonely old hag everyone hates. I won’t be able to blame anyone but myself then.” For once, a truth bomb directed at herself and that anger is slowly ebbing away. At last, she feels like her mind is clear. 

“You should apologize.” 

“I will.” She bumps her shoulder with his this time. “I just hope I didn’t really fuck up to no return. Man, I gotta apologize to everyone. And I was such a bitch to Kai, oh my god.” The feeling of relief is short-lived once she realizes this isn’t entirely over just yet. She still has to face them and do even more talking. “I should have just recorded all of this for reference, I’m not gonna remember half the shit we talked about!”

“Your memory is that bad?” He frowns. “I don’t see anything wrong with writing down a few notes to reference off of so you know, you don’t get misunderstood again.” She thinks that’s a damn good idea and quickly pulls out her phone to start a new memo. “Do you feel better now after talking?”

“Kind of,” she mutters while typing down key points of their conversation. “Thanks for listening to me.”

“Of course! You gotta buy me dinner now,” he says with a wide grin. He dodges her fist with a laugh. “I recommend you apologize to Boo and Vern first. You can always apologize to Kai later, he’ll be patient and understand, I’m sure of it.” 

“Can you let him know I want to apologize?”

“Why do I have to do that? Can’t you? You guys live in the same building right?” He raises a brow, recalling how she asked him something similar earlier. Poor Kai has just been deemed the messenger boy now. Then it dawns on him. “Actually, why not apologize to him now?”

“Now?” She looks at him with confusion. “Like go to his place? But you just sai—” 

“No,” he says while shaking his head and turns to the right, calling out to someone. “C’mon, show yourself you sneaky little rat.” 

“Yeonjun!” JiWoo slaps him on the back. “Don’t be rude!” As they bicker, Kai comes out of his hiding spot, head down in shame for eavesdropping the entire time, it was an honest accident. He never thought he’d be strolling through Sector Zero and come across his friends like this. He was going to leave until he heard what JiWoo wanted to say, he couldn’t help it and stayed to listen. JiWoo gasps when she recognizes him. “Uh, I have to go—” she starts to say before Yeonjun grabs onto her arm tightly. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he warns as Kai finally reaches them at the bench. “It’s time to kiss and make up—OW! Why do you two always hit me so hard!” The older yelps out in pain when he gets another slap from JiWoo on his back, a slap to his head by Kai. 

“Because!” Kai exclaims just as JiWoo screams out, “You’re a jerk!” Yeonjun’s inner fanboy squeals because they happened to be twinning and who doesn’t like that? (Maybe Jihoon wouldn’t but Yeonjun doesn’t ever look at him for the gold standard of relationships). 

“Would a jerk invite you two out to play at Moonwalker Arcade? I guess I should go by myself then, is that it?! Suit yourselves, my job here is done, right? I’m gonna get that high score on those pinball machines finally!”

“I’d like to see you fucking try,” JiWoo scowls. “I’ll make sure that you don’t beat my score!” 

“Is that a challenge I hear? You’re on!” Yeonjun breaks out into a shit-eating grin. “C’mon, you guys can make up at the arcade, right? It’ll be fun!” He begins to drag the two behind him like a pair of rag dolls, they fly across the sidewalk behind him like a bullet train and arrive at Moonwalker Arcade in a matter of a minute, no possibly seconds. “Let’s do this, babes!” Yeonjun cheers obnoxiously as his two dizzy friends stumble inside with him.

* * *

It’s getting harder to ignore the obvious signs of early aged truancy when Jeonghan has received three phone calls from the elementary school Chan goes to discussing his ‘half-days’. (Which for the record Jeonghan already knew was a lie since what kind of elementary school has half-days every month). But he’s been putting off the conversation with his dear nephew mainly because he isn’t even sure how to address the issue in the beginning. He’s not a parent, nor does he ever act like one. Hell, he still enforces nap-time at his workplace because he thinks taking a nap (correction: procrastinating on his work) brings much more productive work - and so far he isn’t wrong in the matter. However, that isn’t the point at the moment. The point is figuring out how to bring it up in conversation. 

He’s not sure how much longer he could handle all the nagging phone calls from the school board. Groaning at the latest message, he runs his fingers through his long hair as Miss Ava saunters in like the diva she is, pawing at his pants leg until he lifts up his oddly heavy cat onto his lap. For a second Chan’s predicament is gone as he wonders if Miss Ava is suddenly obese. Sure, he feeds her a lot (since she’s been demanding more food and won’t leave Jeonghan alone until he gives it to her) but that shouldn’t mean she’s obese. Maybe he’ll take her to the vet soon, that is if she doesn’t claw at him or the poor vet. 

“Miss Ava,” he mumbles out, petting his needy kitty and listening to her purr contently. “I don’t know what to do about Chan. He’s being difficult.” He gets a meow in response and a nudge to keep petting her. Rubbing his forehead, he picks up his phone and dials Taekwoon’s number (yes the musical star Taekwoon) in hopes the elder has some idea on how to approach this situation. The phone rings and Taekwoon’s soft voice picks up right away. It sounds hoarse as if he’s been performing and suddenly, Jeonghan feels bad for calling him. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Jeonghan quickly says. “Are you busy? I can call another time.” 

“ _No_ ,” Taekwoon says, mumbling something in the background. “ _I have some time. We’re in an intermission. Is this about Chan?_ ” There’s a lump in the back of Jeonghan’s throat that threatens to explode - it’s hurt and pain whenever he looks at his nephew hiding behind false smiles. He wills himself not to cry, chuckling into the phone and jokingly asking Taekwoon how he got so good at reading him. Taekwoon’s answer says it all, “ _It’s a parent thing._ ” 

Jeonghan feels himself spill, exposing himself to his friend who listens without judgment. Despite Jeonghan being nine years his junior, he feels like the age gap doesn’t exist. Him and Taekwoon both comprehend on equal grounds. He finishes his speech with a simple, “I don’t know what to do.” The other end is silent for a moment as Taekwoon carefully mulls over his words, taking extra care to make sure they’re the ones he wants to say. 

“ _Well_ ,” Taekwoon starts. “ _This isn’t an easy topic to talk about. But, I think the best thing to do is talk to him. Don’t accuse or provoke him - because then you’ll scare him into not talking to you. Guess… make the environment comfortable for him to be telling the truth and that he won’t get into trouble if he tells you the truth._ ” He hears the elder take a breath when a voice in the background tells Taekwoon there’s a few seconds left before the second act. “ _I’m sorry if it doesn’t help, but I wish you the best of luck._ ” He hangs up before Jeonghan could thank him. So, being the polite man he is, he sends it through a text. 

His body goes limp as he leans back into the leather chair, eyes dry from staring at all the documents before checking his voicemail. His fingers tangle themselves in Miss Ava’s fur, listening to her content sigh. They sit there for a moment before Jeonghan looks down at his cat with an exhausted smile. “It’s now or never right Miss Ava?” She stares back at him, utterly uninterested in his endeavours (she cares more about the lack of petting from her human slave). Regardless, he carefully carries her towards Chan’s bedroom, peeking inside in case the six-year-old is already asleep. To his surprise, Chan is still up even if it’s nearly ten at night. 

The boy is curled up into a fetal position with a pair of earphones on and the CD player Jeonghan’s older sister gave him years ago when he graduated from high school on. The various CDs his brother-in-law gave him litters Chan’s bed as he cuddles the hilariously large dinosaur plush. There are tears brimming at the edge of his eyes as he hits ‘rewind’ determined to hear his mom’s voice again and again. Jeonghan almost doesn’t want to interrupt this moment especially when he can feel his own heart breaking. As desperate as he wants to be, he knows it’s better to hide his grief under layers of love. 

“Channie,” Jeonghan softly calls, snapping the boy out of his trance. He furiously wipes away the tears that threaten to spill (because he says that big boys don’t cry) and plasters on a false smile. “What are you doing up?” 

“Not tired,” Chan replies, pulling out his headphones and clumsily putting them on his bedside table. Miss Ava squirms in Jeonghan’s hold, wishing to be placed on the boy’s queen-sized bed. The blond obliges and watches as his rather round looking cat, treads over the crumpled bed sheets and onto Chan’s lap. “Sorry uncle Hannie.” 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Jeonghan hurries over and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles that decorate Chan’s tiny face. “I’m not mad. I was just wondering.” 

“Wondering?” 

Jeonghan swallows. “Like wanting to know something.” That’s when Taekwoon’s voice comes into the foreground; ‘ _make the environment comfortable for him to be telling the truth and that he won’t get into trouble if he tells you the truth_ ’. It’s always been now or never. He takes a deep breath in and flashes a watery smile at Chan. “Like I’ve been wondering if there’s something you want to tell me. But you’re not in trouble. Uncle Hannie loves you very, very much and he doesn’t want you to be sad.” Chan stiffens, his body rigid as Jeonghan continues his little speech, only relaxing when he hears the words, “Uncle Hannie won’t be angry if Channie tells him the truth. Instead, uncle Hannie will feel very, very proud.” But from the way Chan’s mouth remains firmly shut, Jeonghan knows he’s not getting an answer any time soon. This is fine, because if he learned anything from his four years as a guardian - children liked to do things at their own pace. Rushing them makes them anxious and scared. 

“Okay,” Chan says, holding out his pinky. “When Channie is ready, he will tell uncle Hannie.” Jeonghan wraps his pinky around Chan’s, locking their pinkies together in an unbreakable bond. The pair sits in silence as Chan lies back down in bed, ready to sleep with Miss Ava curled up next to him. Jeonghan feels the maternal urge to brush Chan’s floppy hair back and when he reaches over Chan chooses to speak. 

“People say that Channie gets sp-spe—”

“Special?” 

“Yeah, special treatment because Chan’s uncle has lots of money.” Chan rolls over, facing Jeonghan with sleepy eyes. “Is it true?” Jeonghan’s mouth feels dry, unsure of how to respond. He never thought his own career would be the cause of rumour among school children (fucking school children for Christ’s sake! Shouldn’t they be worried about Pokemon cards or something). He suddenly feels sick to his stomach, the realization that his personal endeavors may cause unnecessary stress on his nephew. Guilt dog piles onto him, the connection of early bullying coming into view. 

Parental books can never prepare someone for this kind of shit. What is he supposed to do? 

“No,” Jeonghan chokes out, the guilt suffocating him. Is it his fault? Did he do something wrong? “That isn’t true. Channie, sometimes people misunderstand things. Do you know what that means?” Chan shakes his head, brain working overtime to wrap his head around it. Jeonghan hurries through a definition. “It’s the opposite of understanding. You are understanding something that isn’t true.” 

“Oh,” Chan says, sleepily blinking up. “So, they don’t understand?” 

“Yes, that is right.” Jeonghan ruffles Chan’s hair. “You did nothing wrong okay? You’re not in trouble. Thank you for telling uncle Hannie.” Chan smiles slightly, closing his eyes and drifting off when the clock hits eleven. Quietly, without disturbing his two babies, Jeonghan slips out of Chan’s room and into his own room. There, he sinks into his bed, holding his head in his hands as he lets out a shaky breath. A part of him wonders what his sister in heaven would do to help the situation. What would she do to make Chan feel better? 

Jeonghan doesn’t realize his emotional state until tears start flowing down his cheeks, a teardrop hits his pant leg, creating a wet spot. His breathing becomes ragged as he wipes away the tears. He chuckles at himself thinking of his father’s words. ‘ _Real men don’t cry_ ’ and yet here is Jeonghan, crying over the fact he feels utterly helpless in this situation. His father must be rolling in his grave at this moment. He wonders if his mother could shed some light down on them but Jeonghan’s inflated pride prevents him from doing so. 

_If I can't think of a reasonable plan of action, I’ll call her._ Jeonghan nods, agreeing with that idea. Now, all he has to do is think of a plan of action, that shouldn’t be hard. Right?

* * *

Three hours pass without a second glance and by the end of their gaming session, they’ve gotten enough tickets to win a large stuffed animal (and not the shitty carnival toys either). But when they get up to the counter, the clerk tells them they’re short about twenty tickets from getting one of those awesome plushies. 

“Damn,” Yeonjun says, frowning. “I don’t think my fingers can handle another round of pinball…” 

“And you didn’t even beat JiWoo’s high score…” Kai points out. “You got like, a million less than Vernon’s.” 

“Don’t expose me like this.” As the pair continues to argue over scores on fucking pinball out of all games, JiWoo looks around for a game they could play to get the last twenty tickets so she can get that cute penguin plushie. (Which she’ll give to Kai, but Yeonjerk doesn’t need to know that). Her eyes land on an empty Sorijilluh game, tucked in the back corner of the arcade. She slowly makes her way through the crowd of asshole teenagers (despite being in said demographic) towards the machine. She gets there before anyone could and slips in four tokens, standing on the dance pad. 

“JiWoo,” Yeonjun says, coming up behind her. “Can you even dance?” 

“Shut it Yeonjerk!” she snaps, scrolling through the songs before selecting the easiest EDM song. She’s getting that fucking penguin if this is the last thing she does. However, when the song starts to play, she grimaces at the lyrics. 

_Do you believe in what you’re feelin’?_

_Show me all you want to hide in your heart_

_Baby I’ve seen it, it ain’t no secret_

_Shall we ride away once and for all?_

_I like the way you laugh when you hide you mouth with your hand_

_Lately I know why I wanna be with you, baby_

_No wonder why I’m so tempted to break the rules, when I’m with you_

_When you’re losing tempo, you know I got your back do you? Cause I’m like you_

“Gross,” she mutters, making sure to tap all the arrows correctly (and missing some in the process). When she gets her score (a B in this case) she lets out a loud whine. “I really wish Soonyoung or Seungcheol was here!” She doesn’t notice the way Yeonjun stiffens at the sound of his brother’s name. 

“Why?” Kai asks, also not noticing how uncomfortable his friend is. 

“He has the highest score on Sorijilluh at home and no one can beat it!” JiWoo complains, hoping off the device. “We’ll never get those twenty tickets.” Kai chuckles, patting her on the head. She pouts up at him, ignoring the way his touch makes her heart flutter. _What’s this feeling?_

“Let me try,” Yeonjun says, getting on the pad and scrolling through the songs they have on the machine. He hits start on _99 Luftballons_ (English Version); the song blares through the arcade, normally drowned out by the sounds of screaming children and angry teens who probably just lost twenty dollars on the claw machine. But just as Yeonjun is about to get a high score on the song, he hears a small commotion going on behind him. He can hear Kai shouting at someone before the new barista from the Carat Cafe comes out of nowhere and shoves Yeonjun out of the way. His eyes staring at the screen as the machine sings: 

_Ninety-nine ministers meet_

_To worry, worry, super scurry_

_Call the troops out in a hurry_

_This is what we’ve waited for_

_This is it, boys, this is war_

“Why!?” the barista - San, if JiWoo remembers correctly (she’s fucking awful at remembering names, it’s no wonder her friend group is so small) - screams out, dropping to his knees in agony. Yeonjun, after getting out of his trance, finally realizes what just happened. The older barista had pushed his way through, knocking JiWoo over onto the floor in the process, Kai was also shoved out of the way before reaching Yeonjun on the dance pad. The three of them remain on the floor, stunned by the encounter until Kai quickly gets up and hurries over to JiWoo to check on her. Yeonjun can tell JiWoo is lying when she says she’s fine, he can hear the pain in her voice. Suddenly something snaps inside of him and he gets up, charging at San but thankfully, Kai grabs him, holding the elder back as he screams, “What the fuck dude!?” at San. All JiWoo wants to do is get the stuffed penguin and leave. 

During the commotion, the creepy Aju Nice worker comes running by, grabbing a sobbing San off the floor and profusely apologizing to the teenagers (all while San continues to wail, asking the song ‘why’ over and over again, despite the song ending). “Here,” the worker from Aju Nice says, shoving their tickets into JiWoo’s hands. “As an apology for my friend here. I’m really sorry he did that.” Without another word, the man drags San away and the three teenagers are left just standing there wondering what the actual fuck just happened. Well, Kai and Yeonjun are, JiWoo is far too busy counting the tickets - slowly grinning when the apology tickets happen to be the exact amount they need. 

“Dude, what was that all about?” Yeonjun asks as the trio makes their way to the ticket counter. The pair shrugs, deciding that it was probably some kind of mental breakdown and the two of them know what it’s like for someone to have a mental breakdown in front of others. So it’s best to move on from it. Yeonjun stares at them for a moment before announcing that he needs to take a leak (in the most graceful way humanly possible, JiWoo says sarcastically) and leaves the pair to choose a prize without him. The oldest figured JiWoo wanted to use the prize as an apology gift and Yeonjun has no problem with that. 

Kai leans on the counter, staring at all the toys that line the shelves in the back. Despite his argument with the girl he likes, he can’t find it in himself to be angry at her. She’s not a bad person and maybe he did step out of line with what he said. Maybe he wasn’t asking the right questions like Yeonjun pointed out earlier. Maybe he was making assumptions and putting her on the spot with loaded questions. He knows how it can be difficult to answer questions if they’re worded a certain way, it gets tricky. Regardless, he doesn’t hold it against her if she ends up hating him in the end for it. Just then, something soft touches his back, startling him in the process. When he turns, he sees a light grey penguin plushie touching him. 

“Um…” JiWoo says, pretending to be the penguin, her voice soft but pitched higher. It takes a lot within him not to scream out how adorable she is in front of all these people. “JiWoo would like to tell you that she’s very, very, very sorry for how she reacted to you and that she hopes you see this penguin as a way of her apologizing because she’s not good with words.” She shoves the toy into his chest, head dipped down so her hair is covering her red face. Stunned, Kai holds the penguin close, feeling his heart pound in his chest as a blush creeps up his face. He feels like he could explode.

“Um… apology accepted…” he mutters out. God, could he be any lamer? He doesn’t get an answer when Yeonjun returns, staring suspiciously at the couple, eyes narrowing as he does so. Something’s up and he’s about to figure it out! Regardless, he loudly announces that he’s back and that it’s unbelievably late. Kai hurryingly checks his phone, eyes wide at the time; his dad is going to have a minor panic attack if Kai doesn’t get his ass home within the next thirty minutes. 

“Oh god,” JiWoo says, checking the time as well. “Where does the time go?” 

“Apparently it goes nowhere because it doesn’t exist.” Yeonjun shrugs. “It’s all in our heads,” he adds, tapping on her forehead to tease her. He’s stunned when Kai smacks his hand away at the speed of light. 

“Let’s just go home!” Kai says as cheerfully as he could, wrapping his arm around JiWoo’s shoulder to shield her from the cold (or that’s at least what he tells himself). The sun has long set, leaving an endless dark sky with twinkling dots to guide them on their way home. Hell, even the moon isn’t out tonight. The teens shiver as they start making their way home, just as they cross the cobblestone path, a car honks at them. 

Seungcheol, sticking his head out like an overgrown puppy, waves at the three. “Hey!” he calls out. “You guys want a lift?” Yeonjun stiffens, still unable to speak to his brother without reverting back into an angsty teenager self. He’s about to open his mouth to deny Seungcheol’s offer when Kai interrupts him, agreeing to the lift. 

“What the hell?” Yeonjun hisses, ignoring how JiWoo quickly climbs into the back of the car. “You know how my brother and I are still on bad terms right?” 

“Yeah, but after that super weird encounter with that guy, do you really want to risk it right now!?” Kai whispers back. “If you don’t want a ride, fine, but no way in hell are we risking JiWoo’s safety because you’re ego is stupidly inflated.” Yeonjun gets out a sigh of frustration, watching his friend climb into the back of the Camaro before swallowing down his own pride and doing the same. 

Sitting in the passenger seat is Jihoon, fiddling with his phone connected to the stereo via an AUX cord. He flashes Yeonjun a small smile and greets JiWoo with a small “hey squirt”, quickly playing _`Love Yourself’_ by Justin Beiber as Seungcheol drives away from Sector Zero. The couple sitting at the front hum along to the song, Jihoon’s hand over top Seungcheol’s, tapping along to the beat of the melody. As soon as the song ends, another love song (one JiWoo can’t identify) begins to play, grossing her out from all the love songs that seem to be plaguing her wherever she goes. Goddamnit, it isn’t Valentine’s day! That’s the only time an overabundance of love is acceptable, even if Valentine’s a horror capitalist creation to sell to stupid couples. 

However, she can’t help but watch how Jihoon and Seungcheol interact - she’s been aware of Jihoon’s engagement the moment she entered the tenth grade. But rarely, she sees him express any affection or even talk about Seungcheol besides informing them that he’s going over to his partner’s place. That’s the extent of it. Jihoon is the prime example of telling you something you’re uncomfortable with without saying too much, just how JiWoo likes it. But she doesn’t get how holding hands like that is affectionate, since she holds Seungkwan’s hand all the time (not from her own free will though, just to be clear but it’s better than dealing with a dramatic diva who throws a fit about how unloved he is if she doesn’t). Holding hands with her friends has a different meaning, especially when there are shady guys lurking around waiting for the chance to get acquainted with her. It wards off unwanted attention and is the only reason why she allows it for the most part. But she starts to wonder what it would mean if that wasn’t the case?

Maybe it feels different when it’s with different people. So, she grabs Yeonjun’s hand, feeling the rough calluses on her soft skin. Nope, feels just like when she holds Seungkwan’s hand, just not soft. 

“Dude,” Yeonjun says, yanking his hand away with a look of disgust. “Gross! What was that all about?” 

“Have you ever heard of lotion?” she spits back. “Your hand feels like sandpaper!” He scoffs, ignoring her. That’s when she turns to Kai and grabs his hand, which is significantly softer than Yeonjun’s, before dropping it right away. He blinks down at her, staring at his hand. Her cheeks heat up when he stares at her, tilting his head like a confused puppy dog. _Weird_ , there’s a different reaction compared to Yeonjun’s and Seungkwan’s. Is it because she doesn’t know him that well and is only embarrassed for being so bold? Her curiosity has gotten the best of her. Or maybe, Kai is defective. Yeah, she likes that answer more. 

“Uh…” she mumbles. “Sorry…” 

“That’s okay,” he answers, cheeks heating up. Thankful for the darkness of the residential areas to hide his evident glee. The car comes to a stop and Seungcheol turns around. 

“JiWoo, Kai, we’re here at your place,” he says, his hand tightening around Jihoon’s slender fingers. 

“Um, I’m actually staying over at Soobin’s place tonight,” Kai says. “I’ll tell you where to go.” He flashes a winning smile at JiWoo who ducks her head. Just then, the music switches to _Hanging by a Moment_ by Lighthouse, and the embarrassment suddenly gets too much. 

_Desperate for changing, starving for truth._

_I’m closer to where I started, chasing after you._

_I’m falling even more in love with you_

_Letting go of all I’ve held onto_

_I’m standing here until you make me move_

_I’m hanging by a moment here with you._

“Thanks for the ride!” she says too quickly, shoving Yeonjun out of the car and jumping out. “I’ll see you guys around! Bye!” The group watches as she scurries into the apartment building, the front door slamming shut. It’s when Seungcheol starts driving again, Yeonjun pipes up. 

“And you didn’t even get her number,” he says. “Pathetic!” 

“Don’t bully me for this!” Kai whines - sounding more like a screech since he’s obnoxiously loud - hugging the penguin closer to his chest. “I just couldn’t! The timing is just never right, the universe hates me!” 

“I mean, I could give it to you but where’s the fun in that?” Yeonjun grins, holding up his cellphone and waving it teasingly in front of Kai. 

Kai just blinks. “Didn’t you say you got a new phone and lost all your contacts?” Yeonjun’s grin falls at the comment because he totally did lose all of his contacts. What a dumbass.

“I mean I could give it to you, for the right price that is,” Jihoon speaks up from the front. Even if they couldn’t see him, they all know Jihoon is sporting a shit-eating grin. 

“Guys, quit teasing him about it!” Seungcheol says, finally silencing the conversation. “He’ll get her number whenever he’s ready.” It should’ve been done at that, until Kai stupidly asks, “Well… what’s the price?” And the cycle continues, giving Seungcheol a headache. _Just ask her out,_ he thinks, gripping the wheel as Jihoon and Kai engage in negotiations. _It’s better to do it sooner than later._

_Forgetting all I’m lacking_

_Completely incomplete_

_I’ll take your invitation_

_You take all of me now_

_I’m falling even more in love with you_

_Letting go of all I’ve held onto_

_I’m standing here until you make me move_

_I’m hanging by a moment here with you._

_I’m living for the only thing I know_

_I’m running and not quite sure where to go_

_And I don’t know what I’m diving into_

_Just hanging by a moment here with you_


	10. Forgive All Your Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Hurt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6yMdwNeZ64) by Christina Aguilera
> 
> For anyone who hasn't picked it up yet, I made Jun British because I can.   
> Jun speaking English gives me life because it's so dangerous.   
> Haha I'm funny

Wonwoo hasn’t seen his sister since their argument a couple of nights ago and despite those negative feelings, it still worries him about how she’s doing. He hopes she’s eating her meals and drinking enough water because at the end of the day, she’s still his sister and he still loves her. Regardless if they don’t meet eye to eye on something, it’s not enough to hate her or cut her out of his life. She hasn’t said or done anything that warrants it, he believes she’s truly just confused and uneducated about the matter. And he knows what it’s like to be misunderstood, to struggle with words. Even so, they need their space right now despite it killing him on the inside. His mind can’t seem to shut up about the whole situation, a menacing voice keeps haunting him repeating over and over again  _ She hates you. No one loves you. It’s your fault.  _

He sinks into his desk chair, burying his hands in his hair as he does.  _ JiWoo is going to hate you forever because of this. You’ll die alone.  _ The turbulent thoughts continue to attack him non-stop, not allowing him to relax for a single moment. In order to calm his mind, he gets up and starts folding and unfolding his clothes - a moment of utter serenity in order to keep  _ calm. _ Swallowing, he peers up at the ceiling, wondering if it would’ve been different if Mingyu’s accident didn’t happen the way it did. (He couldn’t deny how it made him feel though). 

WonWwo chuckles as he presses his fingers into the creases of his shirt. What a silly thought. Absolutely insane. If Mingyu didn’t happen, he’s sure someone would’ve awakened his inner gay, or something like that if Jihoon is to be believed. Granted, he probably shouldn’t be taking romantic advice from someone who punched his crush in the stomach as a confession. Maybe he’s wrong about his feelings for Mingyu. Maybe he needs a third perspective on it but, who or what could it be? 

(He secretly hopes he isn’t wrong about this because he finds himself really, really wanting for it to happen).

**_“What’s wrong?”_ ** Audrey, the cactus that sits on Wonwoo’s windowsill (because Junhui doesn’t like the sun shining in on him as he’s trying to sleep) asks, you can hear worry dripping in her voice. 

“Have you ever been in love, Audrey Hepburn?” he mutters, after sitting back down at his desk. The folding doesn’t do much to elevate his anxiety. There’s a beat of silence and for a moment, he thinks Audrey went to sleep. But do plants even sleep? “Audrey?” 

**_“Who would I even be in love with!? I’m a cactus, Wonwoo.”_ ** It makes him chuckle at the thought. He guesses that is true, but he firmly believes in a plants’ right to love.  **_“People don’t love cactus, they hate them,”_ ** she adds on and he frowns.

“That’s not true, I love you,” he says with a bit of a whine, it’s clear he means platonically but it stuns the cactus into silence again. He sighs and reaches for one of his favourite books and begins dog-earing it. “But I hate what you make me do to my books…” They have a love-hate relationship and that’s how Wonwoo likes it. It’s safe and secure like a blanket. And yet, he wants to dive a little more into the unknown or perhaps that’s far too much of a risk for him to imagine at this time.

* * *

A knock on Joshua’s door late at night scares the barista awake, his heart pounding as he clutches his blanket to his chest. Is there a ghost lurking around that he doesn’t know about? Wait, is this building even haunted? There are rumors among the residents that it is since people have seen shadows moving about in the apartment on the top floor but Joshua doesn’t believe in the paranormal. Maybe he should’ve. Maybe the ghost that’s living on the fourth floor is now after him and wants to knock some sense into his skeptical mind. Another knock causes him to let out a very shrill scream as he flies out of his comfortable bed and onto the floor. The knocking on his front door continues to grow until it suddenly stops. 

Light footsteps pitter-patter along the hardwood flooring, drawing closer to Joshua’s bedroom. The only weapon he has on hand to defend himself is a rusty old metal bat. Either way, he yanks it out from underneath his bed and holds it out like a knife. But of course, that doesn’t do much if he doesn’t know how to use it. The bedroom door creaks open as dim lighting floods into the bedroom. 

Joshua shuts his eyes, already prepared for his untimely death. 

“Joshua,” San says, forcing the older man to open his eyes. “What are you holding?” 

“Ho-How did you get into my apartment!?” Joshua shrieks out, thankful that he isn’t sleeping naked (it’s far too cold to do so). “A-And who is with you!?” The boy from the bakery stands next to San, arms crossed and eyes narrowing as if scanning over Joshua’s pitiful state. He gives San a silent look as if to say ‘Really? This is the person we’re looking for?’ only for San to shrug it off. 

“You left your front door unlocked,” San answers, walking over and kneeling before the terrified older man. “You really should be more careful. You don’t know who might break into your home.” There’s sharp shooting pain, like Joshua has been shot with a rifle, that floods all his senses. The pain is blinding, white and hot as he drops the bat. The metal clatters onto the floor as Yeosang raises an eyebrow, stalking closer. Joshua dips his head down, cradling it in his hands all while whimpering out a mix of Korean and English. 

“He doesn’t know Korean,” Yeosang says, watching the man suffer immensely but making no effort to stop it. 

“Jisoo does,” San merely states, whispering trigger words into Joshua’s ear. Joshua lets out a shrill scream, one that echoes violently through the empty apartment. His eyes jerk open revealing a silvery grey colour in his left eye instead of the beautiful natural brown. Yeosang leans in closer, nearly pressing his face into Joshua’s because curse his fucking night blindness, he can't see shit. 

Without notice, the older man lands a bone-crunching punch on Yeosang’s face; sending the cashier flying across the room and into the wall. He lets out a string of curses, holding his bleeding mouth while spitting out globs of blood onto the pristine hardwood floor. The man, different from the scared barista from before, stands, rolling his back and stalking towards Yeosang. Yeosang’s eyes grow comically wide as he scrambles back, his back hitting the wall. No escape. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Joshua asks, scanning Yeosang over. He takes another threatening step forward, grinning wildly when Yeosang flinches. “Cute. I think I’ll keep you around.” But he reaches down and grabs the younger man by the hair, pulling him up by the roots. “But don’t think I won’t hesitate to snap your neck if you piss me off.” He throws Yeosang back down like garbage, returning over to his fallen blanket as the grey in the left eye fades - a flicker of brown remaining. 

“Get out before I make that a reality.” Yeosang has never grabbed his teammate faster than that moment, running out of the apartment as his heart pounds loudly in his ear - an insane amount of fear. It isn’t until the pair is two blocks away from the damn apartment building that San lets out a loud boisterous laugh. 

“I told you!” San giggles, elbowing Yeosang. “He’s great!” 

Yeosang can only respond with a pained smile, nodding as the fear within his body escalates.  _ There’s something wrong with that man. Something horribly wrong.  _

* * *

Is it normal to feel like you’re drowning when there’s no water around you? Is it normal for Wonwoo to feel like he’s being torn apart by two opposing sides? Ripped apart like Prometheus by the eagle Zeus sends every night to tear out his liver only for it to grow back. An eternity of suffering without any forgiveness or mercy - no end in the foreseeable future. But why is he feeling like this when he should be upset. After all, his younger sister did nothing but spit acid in his face, burning away his emotions and allowing his skin to melt away into a goo. Then, the thoughts of Mingyu ( _ the feeling of Mingyu’s breath against WonWoo’s neck; the warmth of him over top. Mingyu. Mingyu. Mingyu. _ ) comes and puts Wonwoo back together. 

Heaven and Hell clashing on Earth. How is Wonwoo supposed to be perfect now when there’s so much against him? He laughs bitterly, the words on his textbook not making any sense. Look at him, ignoring his studies for a silly crush that might go away in a few months.  _ But I don’t want it to go away.  _ His chest feels empty, black vines constricting his heart and squeezing the life out of it. Is this what rom-coms and books are constantly saying about love? 

There’s three knocks on the door that drowns out his thoughts and he mumbles a half-hearted “Come in”. Peeking her head inside, JiWoo timidly walks in - her arms around her back as she fidgets in place. 

“Do you need something?” Wonwoo asks, not looking at her. His voice sounds so far away, as if it isn’t his, it’s someone else’s. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” she says, her own tone sounding different too. There’s hints of remorse lining her voice but Wonwoo can still feel the burning fire of anger lingering in the bottom of his stomach. Is he not allowed to be angry too? 

“Ah yes, cause that worked out very well last time. However, today is a new day, so talk.” He may be angry but he’s not cruel. That’s never been his style of anger. Forgiving someone takes more courage and less energy than to hate someone for the rest of his life. He never wants to become his paternal grandmother because as his maternal grandmother could say “ _ bitterness makes the soul grow old, but the good die young _ ”. And he never wants to be that person who hates their own blood and flesh. 

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo. I’m really sorry for everything I said and how I acted.” She sticks whatever is hiding behind her back and shoves it towards him. He blinks, staring at them. Black roses. What an honest to god strange colour choice, but judging by his sister’s fashion sense, it isn’t much of a shock. He just wonders if she knows what black means in the flower world. Regardless, he still has a role to play, the one of the older brother, even if sometimes he wishes he didn’t. Sometimes he wishes he could be petty and bratty for once but instead, he’s challenged with the daunting task of being the bigger person. 

Forgiveness has always been difficult because it seems like you’re giving up. You’re the one admitting defeat but as Wonwoo grows older, he realizes that forgiveness means that your relationship is worth more than a petty fight. And who the hell is he if he doesn’t forgive the very person that keeps him grounded when his own mind gets too much?

“Okay,” he says, composing himself to officially forgive her. “But I’m glad you reflected on your past behaviours.” His winces at his own voice - stiff as a fucking board. He’s not presenting a PowerPoint to the class, he’s talking with his own sister.  _ Be natural Wonwoo. Stop treating her like a stranger.  _ “Who are the flowers for?”

“You? As, uhm… an apology gift?” She places the black roses into Wonwoo’s hands. There are nine of them and each one is symmetrical to the other with three leaves on the stems, all bundled together and tied with three black ribbons. That’s when he couldn’t help himself; breaking out into a shit eating grin as he proceeds to inform her that black flowers means death and asking if she wants him to die. The look on JiWoo’s face is hilarious, from her large wide eyes to her adorable stutter as she recovers from her brother’s information dump. 

“N-No…!” she sputters out, her eyes laced with shock at the mere thought of killing her brother. “I just thought, well, these would last a lifetime and you wouldn’t have to worry about them dying. And you know me, I like to wear black a lot and I suck at talking, so don’t you think this represents me quite well? Since they’re fake, they don’t speak so they won’t annoy you while you study.” Lord only knows that some of Wonwoo’s house plants love to talk and distract him. Even now, they’re in the corner going on about how much JiWoo’s changed since the last time they saw her. And he has to agree.  _ My little uwu has changed. _

Wonwoo’s long fingers play with the silk petals with whisper-like kisses against his skin. “I’m grateful for your thought and your gift. Black flowers are also a symbol of rebirth and rejuvenation - so I guess, our relationship is rebirthed.” JiWoo invites herself to sit on his perfectly made bed as Wonwoo sets the flowers on his bookshelf. The black shines against the various shades of brown on his shelf. He wonders how much thought she put into her apology gift but knowing JiWoo it would be a lot. She doesn’t do anything half-assed. If she’s going to apologize, it’s because she means it from the bottom of her heart. 

That bitterness Wonwoo has been used to feeling for the last few days is slowly ebbing away, melting like the polar ice caps. 

“I want to start over,” JiWoo says softly. He can hear shuffling on his sheets as she tries to get comfortable. “I thought about everything and I’ve come to realize that what the most important thing to me is your happiness. I don’t want to be the person who holds you back or makes you feel like you have to hide your feelings.” Perhaps maybe it is time to allow someone new into his mind - after all, the saying goes ‘Two heads are better than one’. He sits up and faces his sister. The words weighing heavily on his tongue as he spills his emotions out. Vomiting them up into a flurry of words that make no sense when strung together. But yet, JiWoo somehow understands his garbled mess; the perks of being someone’s sibling he supposes but his soul feels lighter. Free almost. 

Except still within the confines of love and mindless pining for someone that may not like him back. It’s supposed to be a risk one is willing to take but Wonwoo isn’t sure how much of a risk he wants it to be. It’s scary putting yourself out there when you barely know yourself. Confusion is common within his mind as he thinks about where he sits in the world. Is he still the same Wonwoo that everyone has grown to love or will he become someone different? 

He chuckles to himself. Isn’t it funny how you can go through life without ever falling in love with someone and the second you meet the right person that clicks with you, feelings suddenly sprout up? But is he saying that because Mingyu was so damn close to him or is he saying that because he genuinely likes the younger? Only time will tell, after all, love at first sight does not exist. If it did, people wouldn’t get divorced so easily. 

“I know I said this kind of stuff makes me uncomfortable but I think that’s because I just never talk about it… feels kind of taboo to me. And also… it scares me.”

“Scares you, why?” he asks with a frown. He waits for her to collect her thoughts and courage to speak what’s on her mind. He’s ready to listen this time. 

“Well, you never know what might happen once you fall in love with someone. Whether or not it will last and how suddenly things change. Nothing is the same anymore. I don’t want to see you get your heart broken... but I don’t want my selfish feelings to be the reason you can’t find happiness. You’re in charge of your own life and I’m in charge of mine... So if you want to talk to me about it, I’m willing to listen, and I’m willing to try and understand. I don’t want us to drift apart any longer. I want to know what you’re feeling. I want to support you.” The words ‘I want to support you’ breaks that illusion of needing to be perfect because he’s still perfect in his sister’s eyes. And that’s all he could ever ask for. 

An hour passes in a camera flash as relationships mend themselves. The stitches are still visible and perhaps there’s a scar in it but it doesn’t mean that the relationship is still broken. It means people are growing, changing and learning - scars have never been an ugly thing as Wonwoo initially thought. They’re reminders of how far someone has come and the change that someone has made in order to better themselves. However, it doesn’t mean that old habits don’t die hard. He can see after some time she’s starting to look uncomfortable when he starts to explain the feelings he’s getting when he sees or thinks about Mingyu.

“Sorry, I’ll stop,” he says with a weak laugh, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. It’s confusing to see her look surprised at why he’s stopping. He simply chuckles, unsure of what to say now.

“I mean, it sounds awful,” she finally speaks. 

“What sounds awful?” 

“Those feelings. They sound like poison, killing you from the inside out.” Wonwoo stares at her before snickering. “That can’t be healthy!”

“Okay, I get it!” He can’t help but laugh. “My god, your mindset is so strange!”

“ Hey!” She folds her arms across her chest. “I’m trying here! I’m just saying it sounds awful to fall in love, that’s all.”

“I suppose you have a point,” he says with a small sigh. “Especially when you don’t know how that other person feels. I can see why you’d feel like it’s a waste of time but… I guess I just can’t help feeling that way, as in I feel hopeful that maybe something could work out, you know?” JiWoo nods, listening to him intently. There’s a moment of silence between them and he chuckles again, noticing words really are hard for his sister. “Maybe things won’t work out and this will all just fade away in time, that’s how it should be, right?” He feels a bit bitter suddenly at the idea. Maybe he doesn’t want it to fade away. 

“I think this is the part where I say you shouldn’t be thinking that way, right?” The look on her face is adorable, he can’t help but smile. “You’ve told me many times before while growing up, things happen for a reason. We should just let the universe do it’s magic, correct? So maybe the universe thought you and Mingyu should clash together the way you did? Though I would have just chalked that up to poor timing and bad luck. In this case, perhaps it’s good luck, Mister Bag of Luck.” She grins, nudging his leg with her foot. “I still think it’s a bit strange to think of you with someone but at the same time, I realize I’m only making it strange by not changing my view on the matter. Sometimes people love others and sometimes people don’t and are okay with being alone, right?”

“Exactly, you get the picture now?” The smile on his face causes her to feel like there’s been another breakthrough. “And people shouldn’t have to feel like they need to love someone for the rest of their life either? If you don't want to be in a relationship, you don’t have to, got it? Fuck what society says about love. I’ll support you no matter what you decide to do in the future.” While he appreciates JiWoo taking the time to listen to him, he wants her to know that he’ll always listen to her too. 

“Won’t mom and dad be upset if I never got married?” She suddenly looks worried. “If I never have kids?” 

“As much as I respect our parents for all the sacrifices and hard work they’ve done to help us grow and get to this point, let’s remember that we’re in charge of our own lives like you said earlier. I’d like to believe our parents wouldn’t be as low to expect too much from us, don’t you think?”

“True, I really hope that’s the case. I suppose I can somewhat understand that fear of disappointment when you decided to tell me how you felt about Mingyu. I just don’t want to disappoint anyone, I’m scared if I do then everyone will just leave and I’ll be all alone.” The atmosphere starts to take a turn for the depressing and Wonwoo feels the same way. It is scary to think if his parents find out he’s gay, they’ll disown him along with their traditional grandmother. It’s scary to think his sister will be shamed by his grandmother and parents if she doesn’t find a suitable man to carry on the family tree. They both have something to lose.

After a long tense silence, JiWoo tries to think of a way out of this sad topic. Eventually, it comes to her. “If you have time soon, let’s play some games like the good old days. Maybe I can finally beat your ass in Bag O’Luck.” JiWoo flashes a massive grin as her brother narrows his own eyes with competitive smugness. As if someone could ever beat him - the literal  _ king  _ \- in Bag O’Luck. Positively impossible. 

“Tch, we’ll see. If you win, I’ll buy you a case of Cola. If I win, you have to buy me a box of pastel macarons from the bakery Mingyu works at,” he says, holding out his hand. 

She closes hers around his and gives a firm handshake. “Deal. Prepare some aloe vera, dear brother!” she says before slapping a hand over her mouth. “I mean—” She sheepishly looks at her brother’s aloe vera plant perched on his desk nearby. “I'm so sorry, Alec!”

“ **_I’m ready to help!_ ** ” Alec the aloe vera plant cheers happily. Wonwoo can’t help but laugh and just like that, things slowly start to feel normal again.

* * *

Jihoon wants to slam his head into the nearest hard object with enough force to knock him into a coma for the rest of the fucking school year. Anything to save him from trying to create a party composition just to prove to his partner on this project that Jihoon Lee is anything but safe. Yet here he is, unable to produce anything but a slow-grinding, emotional love song that will cause millions of hormonal teenage girls to fall down and cry the second they listen to them. He supposes that’s why Minki has so many fans - it’s because of his powerful love songs. Regardless of that, Jihoon needs to focus on the assignment right now. His hands tap one of the keys, but the tune comes out all wrong. 

In utter frustration and agony, he reaches for his phone and pauses for a second. Should he even call Seungcheol this early? Hell, is he even up at this time considering how many late nights the detective has been pulling? Jihoon nervously picks at the loose skin around his nails, thinking about Wonpil’s innocent comment. Is he really that useless without Seungcheol by his side? Sure, his head may conjure up these delusional and impossible beliefs about himself but, hearing it from someone else has really plummeted his self-worth. He’s going insane with all of this information that’s lingering inside his head. For a second, he’s tempted to just drop out before anything else happens. As he throws himself on the floor in a fit of artist frustration (anyone who does anything remotely creative will know what  _ that  _ feels like), his shared room opens. 

“I heard noises of anguish,” Junhui says, his locks dripping from his unstyled fringe. “Are you alright there mate? You look like you’re in agony.” 

“Junhui,” Jihoon says, lifting his head up from the floor. “Never go into anything that has to do with music. It’ll eat your soul like crickets do.” Junhui nods, understanding what it’s like to have something you love eat away at your passion. It’s slow like crickets would when devouring a creature - stripping the person down to the bone until there’s nothing but an empty husk just  _ sitting  _ there. Junhui, being the oddball he is, merely walks in and lies down next to Jihoon, staring up at the bare ceiling. 

There’s a soft, icy mist emitting from the elder - helping cool Jihoon’s hair-trigger temper to something more bearable. Clear. Just then, Junhui lets out a sneeze into his oversized hoodie sleeve; sniffling afterward. “Did you catch a cold?” Jihoon asks, placing his face back down on the nice, cool carpet. God, he could lay here forever and not give a shit. Who cares about graduating from university? The real world is super scary anyway, so why bother? 

“I think it’s because my hair is wet,” Junhui replies, eyes closing. “It’ll pass when I get to work.” 

“You work too hard.” 

“I could say the same to you.” Jihoon snorts but doesn’t respond. The elder isn’t wrong; Jihoon  _ does  _ work too hard for it to be healthy. On top of his five courses, he has his massive senior year project (which is to create a full one-hour long album, this means he has to write, compose and produce ten songs for an artist to sing). Ambitious, this is true, but it’s always been his passion ever since he was a little kid and listened to his very first album ( _ Move Along  _ by The All-American Rejects) that he bought with his Lunar New Year allowance. He can remember the feeling of sheer joy and excitement when he listened to it (and it’s still his most listened to CD he has to date). That’s the earliest memory he had about the wonders of music. 

It isn’t until middle school and through the suggestion of his therapist that he took up music composition as a method of emotional expression. He doesn't know what he’d do if music never came into his life the way it did. 

“I have to go to work,” Junhui suddenly says, getting up. “I hope you feel better after this.” Jihoon makes a noise of acknowledgment, continuing to stay on the floor long after the front door slams shut. He hears Soonyoung and WonWoo in the kitchen moments after but he’s too tired to pull himself up. Maybe he does need a new, fresh face on his music or on relationships in general. He finally pushes himself up from the floor after another good ten minutes, stuffing his body into something somewhat presentable and shuffles out. Jihoon grabs his keys from the key holder and heads out for the day, unsure of where he’s going or what he’ll find. 

* * *

JiWoo steadies herself, her fist tightening around the bouquet of real flowers she’s brought with her (muttering quiet apologies to them for being so nervous). Slipping into her sneakers, she strolls towards Seungcheol’s house like she does every school day, but today is different. Firstly, no one goes to school on a Saturday - unless you somehow got Saturday detention. Secondly, it’s to swallow her pride and to finally apologize to her best friend (if he still wants to be that is). The birds above sing as they prepare for their yearly winter’s migration to god knows where (Florida she assumes). She arrives at the house faster than she anticipated and lingers at the driveway. There’s no car outside, indicating that Seungcheol has left for the day - she guesses detectives work is never-ending before she heads up the brick walkway and knocks on the door. She holds her breath, not expecting much. 

When Seungkwan answers the door, he looks horrible - dark bags under his eyes and messy hair that lacks any shine. Hell, even his cheeks don’t have the same fullness as it normally does. He blinks away the sunlight as if he hasn’t been outside in a while. The pair stands, staring at one another before Seungkwan slams the door in JiWoo’s face out of sheer spite. Within that few seconds, a million and one things rush through her mind, first of all, rude. Second of all, she kinda deserves it but she’ll be damned if she gets the door slammed in her face a second time. 

So she pounds on the door shouting, “Don’t do it again please, or I will walk away and never come back!” The door finally opens, revealing a sullen Seungkwan who allows her inside. She slips off her shoes and places the flowers and box of chocolate on the coffee table. The house is scarily quiet, so much so she can’t even hear Seungcheol’s loud birds. Vernon lounges on the sofa, eyes unfocused as Seungkwan silently offers her a seat. It’s so awkward for them to dance around each other like this but she supposes this is how it’s going to be until they officially make up. 

The first ten minutes of silence is horrifically quiet as Seungkwan patiently waits for JiWoo to speak first. But words are stupidly hard - how do you apologize to someone without making it disingenuous? ‘I’m sorry’ sometimes doesn’t work because of how easy it is to say without any meaning behind it. As she thinks, she hears the plastic wrap around the chocolate crinkle and Vernon chewing. At least someone likes her gift. 

When she looks back up, Seungkwan is admiring the bouquet flowers as Vernon stuffs chocolate into his mouth. That’s when she decides it’s best to be upfront about everything even if it hurts. In fact, it hurts not having him by her side more than her own personal beliefs. He was the first friend she ever made outside of family and mutual friends via WonWoo after arriving in America. They met because of Jihoon and Seungcheol and happened to be attending the same middle school (they didn’t meet Vernon until high school). It was just the two of them for a while and they had become as close as JiWoo would allow. There were still things she hesitates on opening up about and she sure it’s the same with him but that never got in the way… until now. 

She feels incredibly dumb to think something like this would never come up, it’s just how life goes. Things change as you get older and people fall in love and get into relationships. She feels stupid for thinking none of that would happen until later when they’re in college. She felt like they were still too young and naive to be getting into drama like this. But here they are. And it hurts whenever she thinks back on the way Seungkwan said maybe they shouldn’t be friends anymore. As if this one particular incident overshadows everything else they’ve been through together. She doesn’t want it to end like that, she doesn’t want it to end at all.  _ I need him… _ Maybe he doesn’t need her as much as she needs him but she won’t know until she says something. 

“I thought about everything I’ve said and done,” she starts, gaining the pair’s attention before she takes in a shaky breath. “And I want you both to know I’m truly sorry. I wasn’t thinking about the full picture, unfortunately, I was only thinking of myself in the end but I realize that now. I’m sorry.” There’s another beat of silence as she hangs her head down.  _ They’re never going to forgiv—  _

“You know I hate fighting with you. And I realize I should’ve said something and it wasn’t fair to just blame you,” Seungkwan says, startling her. JiWoo’s mouth hangs open in surprise. “I should’ve said something as well - so I’m sorry for everything I said and keeping secrets from you.” He looks sheepish, scared almost like he’s embarrassed about his own actions and maybe he has been. Maybe JiWoo isn’t the only one who's been thinking about ways to mend up a broken relationship. 

He too feels lost without her. She’s been his special person for a long time (platonically that is), even if she has her strange ways of expressing herself… he still loves her. Despite him doing most of the talking, she always listened. And maybe he was wrong to assume she wouldn’t listen to the things he was keeping from her, like his feelings for Vernon, or things from his past before meeting her. He realizes now their friendship has always been a two-way street and her side was always open, the roadblocks he thought were there never existed on her side, but his. He also has to make the effort in communicating things with his best friend. She communicated to him about how she feels about PDA and relationships, and it’s clear now there’s a way around informing her about his relationship without totally freaking her out with the details. He feels guilty for not thinking about it sooner. 

“I understand why now, and I just want you to know that I don’t plan to reject you or make you feel like your feelings don’t matter. I want to support you moving forward, and if you can understand that I’m trying my best to do that.” She really hopes the sympathy and empathy is flowing through her words and into the pair’s ears. Will they misunderstand this time around or will they understand that all she wants is her friends back? Seungkwan doesn’t answer, grabbing a piece of chocolate and stuffing it into his face. He’s about to become a sobbing mess from the overwhelming feelings. 

“I forgive you, JiWoo,” Vernon finally speaks up. “Thanks for taking the time to think about this thoroughly, it means a lot.”

“Of course, you’re my friends and… things don’t have to change simply because you both like each other. But I know my views about it should change and for the better. I guess I was just… scared about what might happen to you both.”

“Like what?” Vernon leans over, curious.

“Like if you break up with each other? I mean, I fucking hope you never break up with each other but you know what I mean? I don’t want to see either of you hurting…”

“We’ll be fine, don’t worry!” Seungkwan gives her a few pats on her back and shakes her a little. “Don’t jinx us!” 

“Sorry! I mean you guys will last a very long time, I’m sure of it!” She lets out a strained laugh, causing her friends to laugh at how awkward she’s being but they think it’s cute that she’s trying at least. “I’m not really good at this…”

“I’m sure you’ll get there, I believe in you.” Vernon gives her his signature lopsided smile. “So… you wanna know when we go on dates, right?” he asks, playing with one of the little paper filters from the now empty chocolate box. How’d they eat all those chocolates already? (They’re for the couple but JiWoo was hoping for one piece, goddamn.)

“I mean, yeah, but you don’t need to tell me anything further from that. I just want to know so I don’t misunderstand why I’m not getting a reply or why we’re not hanging out, that’s all. I know sometimes I like being alone, but that’s not always the case,” JiWoo replies, fiddling with the loose string on her turtleneck sleeve. 

“I think we can do that,” Seungkwan says, mouth full of chocolate (so that’s where it went). “JiWoo, you know I love you and everything so, I shouldn’t have cut our friendship off so easily like that.” He stands and wraps her in a bone-crushing hug. Vernon smiles, happy to see the two back together again. 

“I love you too, Boo,” she giggles out before whimpering at the ache spreading in her arms and back. She looks at Vernon and barely gets out “I’m sorry for making you feel like you have to pick a side, that was a dick thing to do.” 

“Nah, don’t worry about,” he reaches over to give her a few pats on her aching shoulder. “I don’t like picking sides either, when I left I was actually trying to get Boo to come back but… well, that didn’t happen.” He shrugs. “But it’s all in the past now, so let’s just keep moving forward. Life’s too short to be fighting, we should have fun while we’re still young!” 

“That is if I even survive this Bootastic hug,” JiWoo squeaks out when Seungkwan squeezes her one last time until they hear an audible pop. 

“Easy, you might actually break her!” Vernon busts out laughing when Seungkwan lets go, dramatically checking her over for any broken bones, claiming he just wanted her to know how much he loves her, he loves her to literal pieces.

“Maybe one day… we can talk about everything comfortably, I hope,” she says once they’re all done laughing at her pain.

“Me too. Though, there are some things I don’t need to know about either.” Seungkwan shakes his head, holding up his hand like he just pulled out a red card. He doubts there’s anything JiWoo would overshare but he has that imaginary red card ready to pull out if needed.

“Just don’t tell me about your sex life, okay, and then we’re good.” The pair grimaces, as the weirdest conversation slowly ensues, much to JiWoo’s distress because let’s be honest, Seungkwan would (maybe if he’s drunk). But, there’s little room to argue when the trio falls back into comfortable territories, lying on Seungcheol’s living room floor and discussing the idea of aliens and conspiracy theories. 

Halfway through, JiWoo notices Vernon’s fingers lacing themselves with Seungkwan’s and for a moment she wonders if someone will be able to love her as much as Vernon and Seungkwan love each other. She can see it now, the way they look at each other. Will anyone ever look at her like that? Like they mean the entire world to them? It might not happen but a girl can hope can’t she? She’s only realizing now that maybe the only reason why she’s uncomfortable with the idea of romantic relationships and romantic PDA is that she hasn’t experienced it herself. In time, the more she understands it, the less uncomfortable she’ll feel, she’s sure of it. And it starts with Kai, doesn’t it?

“Hey, do you think later on down the road, will there be someone who will love me like you love each other?” she suddenly blurts out, thinking out loud. “I mean, will there be someone I love as much as I love my music?” The couple gives a look to each other before looking back to their incredibly dense friend. Doesn’t she realize how much Kai is crushing her? He basically drapes himself over her and follows her around like a lost puppy. Perhaps, it’s painfully obvious to everyone else  _ but  _ JiWoo. Which is quite frankly very sad indeed. 

“It’s okay to be dense JiWoo,” Seungkwan says comfortingly, patting her on the shoulder. “Someday someone will love you as much as you love your scary music.”

“You know, he’s been in front of you for a while now,” Vernon chimes sleepily. “Just open your eyes.”

“Vernon doesn’t get to criticize you either. He’s just as dense as you are,” Seungkwan deadpans, leading to them breaking down in fits of hysterical laughter. This is when life feels the most freeing - like there are no barriers between them. But, JiWoo still harbours a fear that she still might never be trusted. Not that she blames them, trust has always been a fragile thing. Too easy to break and too difficult to build back up again. 

She stops laughing and looks at her two best friends, cherishing this moment before flashing a smile at them. She forces out, “But I just want you guys to know, I’ll be here for you if you ever do need to talk, I’ll do better with that, I promise.”

“And we’re here for you too, remember that. I’ll make sure I won’t keep any more secrets from you or keep you in the dark. That’s not how friendships work,” says Seungkwan in return, holding out his pinky. Vernon laces one of his around Seungkwan’s. JiWoo does the same and grins. 

“You don’t need to tell me every little thing but at the same time I don’t want us to become strangers, so let’s promise each other to be more open with our lives… to an extent of course.” They all nod, slamming their fingers down and separating their pinkies. It’s like trust has been rebounded once again and the fears that lingered within JiWoo slowly fade with the laughter rising up behind them. 

* * *

While awkward could be Wonwoo’s middle name (actually, it might as well be considering how awkward he is whenever he’s around people he actually likes), it doesn’t explain why he’s still walking towards Aju Nice Bakery with his backpack in one hand and a large cheese pizza (still constantly reminded by Soonyoung about that one-time Mingyu comically ran off with a large pizza in hand) in the other. Wonwoo may look like a stereotypical broke college student but don’t let that fool you, he really is a stereotypical broke college student. Minus the pizza. Swallowing all his exploding nerves down, he pushes the pale pink door open - hearing that familiar chime coming from the bell above. 

A stone cold-looking man - that scarily reminds Wonwoo of a certain idol he loves to hate back in Korea - stands at the register, his dead-like eyes staring directly at him as a dull almost sinister smile spreads across his face as the man welcomes Wonwoo into the establishment. Swallowing, Wonwoo gives him a nod and idly wanders the bakery, pretending to look interested in some of the baked goods. A couple catches his eye and he wonders how much money he has on hand. As he does, he doesn’t notice the cashier stalking closer, jumping back and nearly dropping his box of pizza when he hears the man speak. 

“Can I help you?” Wonwoo’s eyes jolt upwards, a pang of uneasiness filters through his body when noting the healing wound on the corner of the clerk’s mouth. Something screams  _ dangerous  _ about the guy but Wonwoo knows better than to simply judge off of appearance (he might regret that later on). There’s something strange about that guy and he doesn’t know what it is. Then it occurs to him, shouldn’t he be used to something like that since his own sister has similar eyes and personality? Cold, chic and blunt.  _ Maybe he’s being bullied.  _ He’s been there before, getting beaten up by bullies in school back in Korea for being the quiet type, not to mention his sharp eyes make him incredibly unapproachable. Of course they’d feel like he was trying to pick a fight for merely looking their way. Swallowing, Wonwoo points to the desserts in the display case. “Cream puffs? How many?” 

“Uh… One should be fine.” The man - James if his nametag is any indication - nods, slowly going towards the boxes and filling it with the French dessert. Wonwoo awkwardly stands aside, looking through the small window that leads to the kitchen of the bakery. There stands Mingyu kneading some dough - his upper arm muscles bulging as he works the sticky dough. As much as Wonwoo likes to say that looks don’t matter (because let’s be real here, Wonwoo Jeon is a cynical man who does not fully believe in love at first sight) he couldn’t help but admire Mingyu’s muscles. Who knew that goofy baker is harbouring some nice features? 

James says something Wonwoo doesn’t hear, blinking slightly when he looks back. “I’m sorry what?” 

“Anything else?” James asks, his voice monotone. Wonwoo frantically shakes his head, placing down the box of pizza and fumbling with his wallet. That’s when the kitchen door opens and Mingyu comes out holding a massive tray of some kind of pastry Wonwoo couldn’t name. James must’ve seen how Wonwoo looks at Mingyu and suddenly slams the box of cream puffs down, turns to the taller man and simply states: “Boss, I’m going on break” before leaving. The two men are now left with the awkward interaction after the whole ‘JiWoo wanting to murder Mingyu with her eyes’ situation. Has he ever mentioned how hard it is to be a Jeon? They’re cursed with resting bitch faces.

Mingyu places his empty tray down and heads over to the register - a faint blush decorating his cheeks as he stutters through an apology. 

“It’s fine,” Wonwoo says, waving it off. The quietness that follows is unbearably awkward as Mingyu fumbles through a check of the pastry then over the keys on the register. Unable to take the awkwardness any longer, Wonwoo shoves the box of pizza into Mingyu’s arms; startling him enough to stumble backward and somehow hit his head on the counter. What comes out of Wonwoo’s mouth within the next five seconds is a lovely string of curses as Mingyu lies possibly dead on the floor. 

In the elder’s panic, the plants that grow around the bakery slither through the cracks of the tiles, lifting the younger man up and carrying him towards an isolated corner of the bakery (to avoid any suspicion of course) as Wonwoo rushes around looking for some ice. (He finds some after begging Mingyu’s coworker for a bag and she was nice enough to give him one). Wonwoo then sits beside the very unconscious Mingyu and contemplates moving to France and somehow changing his name to Jacques when the baker comes to. 

“Holy— Mingyu!” Wonwoo says, helping him sit up and checking over the baker. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t mea—”

“You got me a pizza?” Mingyu asks, looking down at the white box before lifting up the top. The scent of cheese and oil fill Wonwoo’s nose, forcing him to jerk away. It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to start snacking on the pie, his mouth full and thanking Wonwoo. (Which hilariously comes out to ‘Thk new Onew’ but Wonwoo gets the gist of it). 

“It’s supposed to be an apology.” Wonwoo fiddles with his backpack straps, wondering why that came out so easily. It isn’t like they’re friends or anything - more like acquaintances if anything - yet, he feels so at peace with Mingyu. It’s like he’s known the younger for years instead of weeks. It’s a strange feeling settling under Wonwoo’s skin - similar to an itch that never seems to go away. A constant craving if you will and he isn’t quite sure what to do about it. 

“For what?” (Of course, it sounds like ‘door wut’ but Wonwoo doesn’t point it out even though it’s legitimately killing him on the inside).

“For how my sister treated you that night at dinner. It wasn’t right and—” 

“I don’t hold that against your sister,” Mingyu interrupts, swallowing the large mouthful of pizza, licking the sauce off the corner of his mouth. Wonwoo suppresses the urge to wipe it clean with a napkin. “If I was her, I’d probably do the same thing.” 

“Glare at someone who is making you dinner?” Mingyu lets out a loud chortle; high pitched and carefree, his entire body falling back as he lies on the dirty floor. Wonwoo merely stares at him, unamused by the reaction - surely there is nothing that Wonwoo said is  _ that  _ funny. (But that warm bubble of electricity that boils underneath his skin explodes in tiny lighting bolts - why does that make him feel so good?) 

“Um, no,” Mingyu says, gasping for some air after laughing for a good while. “Protecting my loved one from a potential partner.” There’s a short silent beat before Mingyu jerks up, pizza box still in his hands. “Uh… Oh, will you look at the time, I gotta water… my cat. See you around!” With that, Mingyu jumps up and dashes off into the back, leaving Wonwoo sitting there blinking at the sight. All Wonwoo could do at the moment is hike his bag up and book it out of the bakery as the scene replays in his head.  _ Cats don’t need to be watered, they need to be given water! Cats don’t need to be watered, they need to be given water! Cats don’t need to be watered, they need to be given water!  _

A strange feeling of fondness blooms like a spring garden in his chest. There’s something oddly charming about Mingyu that Wonwoo likes and he isn’t entirely sure what it is but it’s a reason to keep coming back and learning more. If Wonwoo Jeon likes anything more than The Legend of Wah, it’s learning. As he walks home (he left his car at home again) a small, innocent plan begins to form inside Wonwoo’s head. It’s going to be hard (the student isn’t known for social interactions) but he really wants this, and the more he wants it the more he’ll shove aside his reservations and pursue it. 

* * *

The fresh air does little to calm his overactive mind - it feels like the internal walls of his mind are caving in, thunderous rocks falling over him and caging him in. He feels like he’s suffocating the majority of the time, unspeakable emotions trapped in the back of his lungs. Jihoon’s feet take him around the heart of the city aimlessly, eyes focusing on something on the sidewalk. Somehow, he ends up at the daycare Aaron runs, and for a moment he wonders if he should just turn around when the door opens and Aaron pops his head out. 

“Hey Jihoon!” he says, his cheeks blooming bright against the cold of the wind. “Do you wanna come in? I know it’s late but like, I have some coffee brewing.” Jihoon nods, unable to pass up free coffee (and anyone who does is probably a demon or a better man than Jihoon is) and heads in. The kids that are under his care and his workers’ care are all in the back of the daycare, playing on the jungle gym built last year. Aaron leads Jihoon towards the staff room where the aroma of fresh coffee overwhelms all of Jihoon’s heightened senses. For a second, the junior forgets how exhausted he is (staying up for nearly twenty-four hours can do a lot to a person; Jihoon is just surprised that he isn’t delusional at this point) and heads towards one of the empty tables while Aaron gets them a cup each. A cute baby duck tray holding various creamers and sugar containers sit on Jihoon’s right. Aaron takes a seat across from the younger and slides him the mug of coffee. 

“Help yourself,” he says, pouring in some cream. Jihoon heads straight for the sugar, dumping in an ungodly amount before pouring in an equally ungodly amount of cream. “What brings you here?” 

“I can’t just stop and say hi to my friend?” Jihoon retorts, a small smile hidden behind his adorable kitten mug. The delicious taste of caffeine and sugar rushing over his taste buds and into his veins like some coffee addict. He sounds more and more like an addict every time he says things like ‘Man, this is the good shit right here’. 

“Well, considering how busy you are, I can’t deny how shocked I am.” Aaron sips his coffee, eyes burrowing into Jihoon’s soul. “When are you planning to get your hair done?” Jihoon lets out a groan, well aware of the fact that his dark roots are showing and his pink is fading faster than he’d like. When was the last time he went to the salon? Early September? That’s when he decided to impulsively dye his hair pink (not because he lost some kind of bet). At the time, it was ‘new school year, new him’ but with all of his stress, it doesn’t seem like Jihoon changed at all. He’s still the same nervous, workaholic that everyone has come to know and love. 

“Whenever I’m not dying from school and my thesis.”  _ And questioning my self-worth.  _ But he doesn’t say that last part out loud, not towards Aaron. The last thing he really needs is for Aaron to psychoanalyze him, despite Aaron not being a trained professional. That never stopped the elder from doing so - it may also have something to do with the fact that Minhyun, Aaron’s partner (no one is sure if they’re married or a common-law couple) is the psychologist. Jihoon lowers his head, feeling the judgemental look of Aaron as he reads the younger man like an open book.

“Did someone say something to you?” Aaron tentatively asks. When Jihoon involuntarily flinches, that’s when Aaron gets his answer. “Was it about you and Seungcheol?” Another jolt, another involuntary answer. Aaron probes a little bit more, finally gaining a confession - all of Jihoon’s personal insecurities that seem to be suffocating him with every passing day. It isn’t completely his fault, fighting with a taunting voice is a losing battle and a lost war. How do you battle against something that’s made up in your head? 

“I just… I don’t know, I wonder if he’ll ever just leave because I’m not enough,” Jihoon mumbles, staring into his clay-coloured liquid. “Wonpil said it’s like I can’t live without him.” 

“Do you think that?” Aaron asks. 

“I don’t know.” He’s not lying, Jihoon truly doesn’t know where he stands in terms of his relationship. If he says yes then he’s nothing more than an accessory, hanging off Seungcheol like a parasite. If he says no then he doesn’t value the love Seungcheol unconditionally gives him. Jihoon is trapped in a state of undesired limbo - choking on his own paradoxical thoughts. 

Aaron doesn’t respond, sipping on his lukewarm drink now. “Have you thought about telling him about these thoughts? I’m sure he’d like to know.” 

“He already knows,” Jihoon responds. “My brain is stupid. Anxiety is stupid. I’m being stupid.” 

“That’s not true. You’re a very smart man Jihoon. I think you need to take a day at a time.” Aaron pats him on the shoulder. “Talk to Seungcheol okay? It’s not fair for you to go through this alone.” Jihoon swallows, nodding numbly to the older man - who is blissfully unaware of the swirling storm that lingers underneath Jihoon’s skin. He tells himself he’ll talk to Seungcheol about it again. He tells himself he’ll do a lot of things, and for a second he convinced himself that he’ll break open his thought jar. But the second he steps out of the daycare, he tenses up, convinced he’s not strong enough to speak his thoughts. 

He swallows down that weakness and continues walking - determined to deal with it on his own. He’ll force a song out of him, he’ll force those thoughts out of his mind - no matter what. Even if it gets him killed in the end. 

* * *

Chan waits until his uncle is in the shower before dialing Gigi’s home phone number - something she gave him sometime during the week. Supposedly it’s for school help but neither child really uses it for school. Rather, they use it for child-like gossip that they hear randomly throughout the day. Gigi picks it up immediately, saying her signature greeting (“Welcome to the Black Parade, I am the president, Gigi Kim.” [Chan thinks it’s totally creepy but this is what happens when your best friend is a goth girl]). Aren’t they too young for this shit?

“Any progress?” Chan asks, his eyes looking at the door of his uncle’s bedroom. He doesn’t want his uncle to suddenly appear and ask for the gossip too. Uncle Han is a great person most of the time, the other times, he’s just nosy, 

“My brother is sad because his love does not love him back, he thinks,” she says. “I do not know how to make him un-sad.” 

“We don’t want your brother to be sad right?” 

“Si. He makes too much chocolate when sad. House smells like chocolate. My favourite Chinese man is helping give away some.” The pair hums in agreement because no one likes it when someone is sad. Being sad is icky and no one likes feeling icky. So, the pair ponders about what they are to do to stop Gigi’s brother from being sad. That is until Chan remembers all the strange romance movies Uncle Han likes to watch when he thinks Chan is asleep. 

“We should make your brother’s love and your brother ‘get together’,” he says, practically vibrating in his spot on the carpet in his footie pyjamas. Though, he doesn’t know what ‘get together’ truly means but from the movies he secretly watched, it seemed to make the characters happy. 

“Ah yes,” Gigi says in agreement. He could hear lightness in her voice already. “I shall find my brother’s love and we get them together.” 

Chan hears the shower turn off; time is running out. “We talk about the plan at school okay?” 

“Yes. Operation Meanie getting together!” 

“Operation Meanie getting together!” With that Chan hangs up but doesn’t make it to his bedroom in time. His uncle walks out half-naked and stares at his nephew. 

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan asks, eyeing the little six-year-old. Chan is much too smart for his age and Jeonghan isn’t sure if he likes that. 

“Nothing!” Chan smiles and scurries back into his room. He wipes some imaginary sweat off his forehead. The plan is still a secret, for now. 

* * *

Date nights are supposed to be engaging; but for Seungkwan and Vernon, they’re more about relaxing - in fact, most of their date nights include watching a movie on MovieQ (a streaming service for movies and TV shows) while binging on popcorn. Tonight, however, it seems Vernon’s mind has other plans as the younger male instantly began dozing off the second the movie played. Seungkwan doesn’t mind it though, knowing fully well how difficult it is for Vernon to sleep most of the time - allowing him quick catnaps whenever possible. Sometimes Vernon is lucky to get about eight hours a night (something that’s very few and far in between) but most of the time, the younger gets roughly four hours a night. 

He can’t really blame Vernon at all, the last few days have been an emotional roller coaster. But, all Seungkwan can say is that now he’s glad JiWoo and him have patched things up. It’s lonely to go through life without his best friend and honestly he feels so naked without her. What’s the point if they aren’t even friends? He leans back against the sofa cushions, satisfied that everything will be alright. 

However, Seungkwan still feels loved enough - as Vernon rests his head against Seungkwan’s shoulder as the movie plays. Parts of it reminds Seungkwan of the night they first kissed; back in December when Vernon was (and still kind of is) too dense to realize all the flirting Seungkwan had been doing. Similar to tonight, they were at a movie - one that proved to be far too traumatizing for him to stomach (thinking back to it now, Seungkwan regretted every single minute of that movie). Like, who in their right minds would make a blockbuster talking about kidnapping and doesn’t expect people to be triggered? He remembers running out of the theatre, much to his friends’ confusion and as the rom-com plays before him, that memory flickers on like an old movie reel behind his eyelids. 

The cold night air slapped Seungkwan hard in the face, freezing his fingers and chilling him to the bone. His white sweater was no match for the brutal December night; but his mind was too overstrung to think properly. Like his mind was raging on overdrive; exploding in red. He leaned over the railing, trying to live, trying to be present. He could hear the words of his therapist Minhyun Hwang repeating like a mantra in the back of his head.  _ Just keep breathing. One breath at a time. _ Don’t look at the past, focus solely on the present. 

“Hey.” Seungkwan froze, shutting his eyes before gripping the freezing iron bar tightly. His winter coat fell around his shoulders like a cape; a bitter coldness enveloping him. Vernon sat down on fresh snow next to Seungkwan. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Seungkwan snapped, albeit a bit too harshly. His mind raced, still traumatized from the memory suddenly coming to the surface after years of repression but those horrific jealous feelings erupt in his face, making himself unable to look at Vernon. “You should go back inside, finish the movie.”

“Nah,” Vernon said, looking up at the night sky. “Yeonjun and JiWoo were going to tell me how it ended; if they suck at it then I have Google to help me. I just… I think making sure you’re okay is more important.” 

“They’re probably wondering why you left.” 

The younger simply grinned. “Told them that whatever JiWoo fed me earlier at her place did not settle that well in my stomach… She’s a terrible cook you know.” Seungkwan found that hard to believe, not being able to remove the image of the two sitting next to each other from his head. They looked so perfect for one another, giggling and bumping their shoulders together, sometimes he had wondered if the two were dating secretly. What else could explain how close they became in such a short amount of time? It took months to get that close to JiWoo and here Vernon managed to do that in a mere few weeks. They look so happy together and then there’s Seungkwan, who looked out of place, like he’s intruding, invading on their picture-perfect relationship. Seungkwan, the child who lacked a family because God doesn’t want him to have one. A stain of a human on society’s picture-perfect view. And hearing Vernon say that fucking hurts.  _ Why were you at her place anyways? _

“Either way,” Seungkwan said, zipping up his coat. “You should head back inside. They’re probably worried about you.”  _ And only you. _ The undertone of his words rang loud and clear through the dead of night. The parking lot grew emptier by the second as the cars pulled out, heading towards the suburbs. He watched as the headlights faded down the barely lit road, listening to his breathing slow to Vernon’s. 

“You know they care about you too…” Vernon said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Boo, you left in a panic, how could we not worry about you?” 

“It’s really easy to.” Seungkwan didn’t look at him, focusing all of his attention on the snow on his shoes. He jumped when he felt Vernon wrapped his arms around Seungkwan’s middle, placing his head against the older’s head. The older student froze, unsure of what to do, his arms hanging limply by his side. “What are you doing?” 

“Hugging you, you moron,” Vernon said, closing his eyes, wondering if Seungkwan could feel his warmth radiating through the thick white coat. “Why are you thinking like that?” 

Something inside of Seungkwan snapped, as if the hugging broke him - his emotions bursting out of him. All of the anger, the jealousy, the sadness, everything bubbled up like an overflowing pot and suddenly, he could feel something wet running down his cold cheeks. His hands shakily reached up and began furiously wiping his face. But the tears continued to flow, like a free-flowing rapid river ripping through a broken dam. He hiccupped, trying to speak but his throat closed up, making it difficult for him to express his thoughts. His soft cries slowly grew louder, only to weaken down into a tiny whimper whenever Vernon tightened his hug. 

“It’s okay to cry,” Vernon muttered, rubbing the small of Seungkwan’s back. “I’m here for you so… just let it all out.” Seungkwan sniffled, wiping his face on the back of his hand and gulping in some of the cold air, feeling it freeze his lungs a bit. Just as he calmed himself down, like the world is watching them; the sky began to darken with fluffy, white snow coming down. Some caught themselves in Seungkwan’s dark hair, melting at first contact. Slowly, he turned around, head looking down before enveloping Vernon into a hug, squeezing the younger with every fiber of the older’s soul. His emotions raged like an uncontrollable bonfire, raging high into the night sky, only to be fueled when he felt Vernon soothingly rub his back. High off endorphins (or rather emotions at this state), Seungkwan leaned in and placed his lips against Vernon’s. 

He smiled when he felt Vernon kiss him back. 

Every memory with Vernon has always been special, but that one - the one where Seungkwan kissed him - stands out the most in his mind. A serene smile spread across his face as the characters on-screen finally had their kiss in the pouring rain. As the characters do, Vernon suddenly jerks awake, eyes wide and blinking as he looks at the screen. 

“Morning sleepyhead,” Seungkwan cheerfully teases. “You missed the best part of the movie.” 

“I did?” Vernon asks, his voice pitchy like a girl’s. For a moment, Seungkwan sits there, dumbfounded at the sight. “That’s totally unfair. Can you replay it? I wanna see them kiss!” 

“Since when did you start liking rom-coms?” The only reason Vernon ever puts up with the romantic comedies is because he loves Seungkwan (and also the fact that Seungkwan is more than willing to put up with watching  _ Harry Potter  _ for like the fortieth time in a row). Vernon’s large eyes blink back at him, tilting his head slightly - looking rather confused. 

“What do you mean? I’ve always liked them!” He flirtatiously pokes Seungkwan in the stomach. “It’s my fav!” That’s when Seungkwan realizes that it isn’t Vernon but rather a spirit possessing the unconscious lad - another reason not to sleep as much. While the majority of the spirits that linger around him are decent human beings, some of the more malevolent spirits slip past Ted and Jolene’s radar and occasionally possess Vernon. Though, it’s quite rare for that to happen. 

Seungkwan merely stares at the teenage girl that took over his boyfriend’s body; looking around the room for any signs of Vernon’s spirit friends. When he doesn’t feel them or see any paranormal activity happening he lets out a defeated sigh. He flops back onto the sofa and waits for the spirit to leave. Sometimes that could take from as short as ten minutes to as long as eight hours. This particular spirit looks like she’s in it for the long haul. Just as he thinks that, a gush of icy air breezes over Seungkwan’s body, and soon his boyfriend’s body falls back on the sofa; passed out once again. 

The temperature around them drops, an indication of a spirit in the room. A blanket floats from the other side of the room and overtop Vernon - who is dozing off soundly now. 

“Thank you,” Seungkwan says. A small breeze brushes over his fringe as a way of saying ‘You’re welcome’. But the older student couldn’t simply settle down and watch the movie like a normal person. Instead, he focuses on the alarming increase of possessions Vernon has been experiencing. It’s like Ted and Jolene’s powers are shrinking with every second; feeling just as helpless as Seungkwan does. He pushes those feelings down as much as he could, choosing to hope that no one malicious will take over Vernon and hurt someone close to them. That would be nothing but a disaster in the long run and Seungkwan isn’t sure how he’ll handle it when the time comes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm not about that #IRL-life we made up some games that are fun inside jokes of the fandom! See if you can spot them


	11. Between the Lines of Fear and Blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [How To Save A Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXcX5llJeko) by The Fray
> 
> Trigger warning: The very last scene contains the murder of an entire family - however, it's very important to the story. If you're not comfortable with that feel free to message me and I'll give you a summary!

For some reason, Chan can’t handle school today - maybe it’s because his only friend is currently sick with the flu or maybe it’s because his uncle knows about the horrible rumours that are floating around the elementary school - regardless of the reason, Chan decides he’ll just ditch. Halfway through the first bell, he simply walks off school property and starts heading down a random street, making sure to stick close to adults to look like he’s their kid. For a moment, he swears his heart rate skyrockets from every little noise that echoes in the crowded streets of AL-1. 

_ Maybe, this is a bad idea, _ Chan thinks, playing with the straps of his backpack nervously. Maybe he should head back before something bad happens - but he’s already so far away from the school and it’s in the middle of fourth period. If he goes back now he’ll be in more trouble than before and Chan really doesn’t like getting into trouble. The more he walks the more on edge he feels until a noise from behind sends him into a minor panic attack - reminders of his early years before he came to live with uncle Jeonghan. 

“Hey, hey,” Joshua says, his voice calm and sugary like the good batch of cookies that uncle Jeonghan sometimes gets from Aju Nice Bakery. “Please don’t be scared, it’s me. Joshua. Remember?” 

“Uncle Joshua?” Chan timidly asks, looking up at the pretty barista standing in front of him, hand outstretched for the child to grab onto. “Wh-why are you here?” He grabs onto Joshua’s hand, feeling safe finally. No more noises to scare him and no more hiding in the shadows of the adults that surround them. People continue to walk, some staring at the pair, others making it a point not to look. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Joshua smiles, helping the little boy up. “Why aren’t you in school?” 

“It’s a half-day.” The lie tumbles out of Chan’s mouth so easily now, it’s like it stopped requiring thought ever since he started making up excuses to get out of class. It’s not his fault the students (and some of the teachers) are super mean to him. He’s just a kid who happens to have a rich uncle (and said rich uncle likes to donate to education foundations because school is important). “But don’t tell uncle Jeonghan, he’s busy.” 

Joshua frowns, checking his watch. “Chan, it’s only eleven in the morning.” 

“Half-days are different now.” He flashes Joshua an innocent smile, hoping the elder will ignore the mere fact that Chan is basically skipping school for the third time this month. Sure, his uncle will get a lot of phone calls about Chan skipping for class again but he doesn’t care. As long as he’s able to get away from the living hell that is elementary school bullies, it’s fine. Everything is fine. And Joshua seems to fall for Chan’s charms, nodding in agreement then asking if the kid had anything to eat. 

Chan’s stomach rumbles and Joshua takes it as a no, telling him he’ll treat the kid to something good if they keep this entire encounter a secret from the CEO. Chan agrees, grinning like the little devious brat he is, sticking close to Joshua as the elder leads him towards the twenty-four-hour diner. On the way there, Chan rambles about his game because the boss level he’s on sucks so much. Joshua hums every so often, piping up with words of encouragement as they walk. Chan isn’t sure why he feels so comfortable with Joshua, considering he barely knows the man. 

Maybe it’s the way uncle Jeonghan smiles whenever he sees Joshua’s name appear on his phone. Or maybe it’s the giddy love that Chan can obviously see on uncle Jeonghan’s face whenever he gets ready for his many dates. Plus, he has a small betting pool with Miss Ava to see how long it’ll be for the pair to recognize their feelings for each other. Chan Lee doesn’t like losing and he wants to confirm if Joshua also holds said feelings. What better way to do so besides getting close to the man his uncle is smitten with? 

The diner is slightly busy with workers from the nearby shops, but the pair manages to score a table near the pinball machine. Chan’s eyes grow wide from the machine, seeing it at Moonwalker Arcade but never being able to play it due to his age and the fact that people are always hogging it. (Also, he thinks JiWoo or Vernon currently holds the highest score on it). 

“Do you want to play?” Joshua asks, motioning to the machine. 

“Can I?” Chan asks, his voice laced with sheer childlike excitement that it’s hard to hate the kid. 

“If you pick something to eat first.” Joshua chuckles when Chan instantly picks up the kids’ menu, circling the item he wants with a blue crayon. Looking at the machine, Joshua wonders if it still works and wouldn’t eat someone’s quarter. The waitress comes back at the moment Joshua is staring at the machine. 

“It takes quarters,” she says. “If you get the highest score for the day, we call you and give you a free meal coupon.” 

“Oh. Interesting,” Joshua says, pulling out a small coin purse, filled to the brim with quarters that he finds while walking the parks. “Channie, would you like to try once we give the nice lady —” 

“My name is Joy!” she chirps, smiling down at Chan - who averts his gaze, cheeks dusted in pink. 

“—Joy, our orders?” Chan nods, pointing to the thing he circled and Joy notes it down while Joshua stares back down. During the time he spent staring at the pinball machine, he’d completely forgotten to pick something to eat. Silly him. Ultimately, he decides on something small, enough to get him through the day before he heads home to cook dinner. When Joy leaves, Chan is practically bouncing in his seat, excited to finally play a real pinball machine. Joshua holds out his hand, leading the boy over to the machine. 

The exterior of the machine has some superhero on it, one that Joshua isn’t familiar with (or maybe he is but he can’t remember for the life of him where it’s from) until an issue arises. Joshua looks down at Chan, realizing that the boy is far too small to even reach the buttons. 

“I’ll lift you up!” Joshua says, letting go of Chan’s hand. When the boy gives him a look of disbelief, Joshua jokingly flexes his muscles. “Don’t worry, I’m strong!” 

“Okay…” Chan replies, allowing himself to be lifted up (something he never allows unless it’s uncle Junhui). Joshua picks him up by the waist and holds him as Chan inserts a quarter in. Suddenly, that dusty old machine comes to life with glittery lights and a metal ball rolls down as some of the characters inside spring to life. The look of sheer childlike joy on Chan’s face is going to be worth the pain Joshua is going to feel tomorrow. Slowly, Chan reaches out and pulls the plunger back, letting it go and watching the ball ricochet out into the playfield. The characters shriek out whenever the ball rolls over them and Chan focuses intensely on the moving object, hands smacking the plunger buttons quickly as the ball bounces around the playfield. 

In other words, it’s too much for Joshua’s elderly mind to comprehend - his eyes getting dizzy from all the flashing lights and loud, obnoxious sounds. It draws a couple of people’s attention but most ignore it, smiling as they watch Chan bat the ball around without losing it - but at the 900.000 mark, the ball falls through. He still has two more lives and by then, Joshua can feel the strain in his arms. 

“Do you wanna try uncle Joshua?” Chan asks. “I have two lives. You play!” He beams when Joshua sets the kid down and nods. He tugs the plunger and gets ready for the fast-moving silver object among the gaudy lights. Somehow, by some miracle, Joshua gets a second ball added into his gameplay. A minor panic ensues but with Chan watching him and giving little cheers of encouragement, it’s better to focus on the game. After all, if he loses one ball, he has another to make up for it. It doesn’t take long to pass a million and with each passing second, Joshua feels a strain on his fingers. They pass seven million when Joshua loses the balls. 

“You did so good!” Chan squeals from where he is. “That’s so cool!” 

“I think you can do better,” Joshua replies, picking him up again and watching him play the final ball. Chan’s fingers move the ball incredibly quickly, hitting the areas with the highest scores and on occasion, hitting the special area. They lose at thirteen million and seven hundred seventy-seven. Joshua sets the boy down and gives him a celebratory high-five. 

“Thank you, uncle Joshua!” Chan quickly says, blushing down. “That was so fun!” 

“I’m glad you liked it so much,” he says, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Now, please eat something so you’ll have some more energy!” Chan nods, following Joshua back to the booth. While sitting there, a sharp pang stabs itself through the barista’s head, like an icepick tearing at the muscle. He gives a pained smile when Joy returns with their meal - but looking down at his plate, his appetite seems to have diminished. That headache grows in pain, causing sweat to pour down his temple. 

“Are people being mean to you again?” Joshua asks, his eyes shifting from brown to grey in a matter of seconds - far too quickly for the average person to notice. 

“People are always mean to me,” Chan sadly says, poking at his fries. “I wish they would stop.” 

“Didn’t you get them to stop before?” 

Chan blinks, looking up at the barista, smiling a bit. “Well, one of them isn’t at school anymore. I dunno why, the teachers won’t say.” From across the diner, a loud wail breaks through - causing all the people inside to turn and stare. One of the teenagers sitting at the booth is covered from head to toe in milkshakes all over her while a group of cheerleaders begin to laugh; the main bully drops the milkshake cup, shattering it on impact. A waitress comes and yells at the entire group to leave the place. Chan frowns, ducking his head when he recognizes one of the bullies in the group to be the older sister of his own tormentor. 

“Why are you frowning?” Joshua asks, his voice sounding like liquid nitrogen. “Aren’t you happy they’re not at school?” 

“One of the bullies’ sister was here,” he mumbles, playing with his backpack strap. “He’s mean. His sister is mean.” 

“You should make them pay, then. It’s only fair. You shouldn’t have to have put up with people being mean to you. What are some things you want to happen to them?” Chan thinks about it for a moment, the energy from his first-ever pinball experience still coursing through his veins as he giggles at the idea of it. Golden flakes appear in his eyes as he tells Joshua the thought he had. 

One where steel balls are falling from the sky and crashing into them like meteors. He giggles again. “But that’s silly! You make me think silly things uncle Joshua!” Joshua merely smiles, petting the boy’s hair. 

“Ah, but the silliest things are often the best.”  _ Because you’ll never know when that silly thing will come true.  _

* * *

The phone rings at one forty-seven pm on a Thursday afternoon, startling Seungcheol out of his work-induced coma. He blinks away the fatigue as his clumsy hands reach for the phone. The receiver slips out of his hands a couple of times before he’s able to settle himself from the sudden heart attack. He takes in a calming breath before answering.

“Hello,” he says. “Detective Choi speaking.” 

“Jongdae said you needed to talk to me,” a smooth, calming voice says; a voice similar to melted honey in a cup of warm tea. It’s soothing to listen to, as if the person on the other line is nothing more than a personification of tranquility. All of Seungcheol’s unnecessary stress begins to melt away like snow sitting under the spring sun. “Start talking, you know I’m a busy man.” 

“Hakyeon… right?” Seungcheol asks, hesitation and insecurity lining his voice. He’s heard about the crazy mad scientist that caused immeasurable chaos within the government some odd years ago. Now, sitting on the phone with him, all of Seungcheol’s questions dries up - preventing him from speaking. 

“Mhm. I’m giving you ninety seconds to pique my interest, if not, then I’m hanging up and deleting this number.” 

As if Seungcheol isn’t already stressed enough, being given a time limit proves fatal to the young detective as he scrambles to get his words out. “Do you know anything about a nullification power?” He hopes his colleagues aren’t listening in and hearing how mentally insane he sounds. Superpowers aren’t real and contractors are merely works of fiction until they’re not. There’s a panic-inducing silence on the other end and Seungcheol wonders if he’s missed his chance. 

Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath quells some of those thoughts in his mind. “Is this call recorded in any way?” Hakyeon asks. “If so, hang up and meet me at Pinwheel Books in twenty. Miss that time frame and you won’t get any information.” Without giving Seungcheol a second, the line goes dead. Swallowing, the detective has no other choice but to follow the older man’s advice. Grabbing his coat off the coat hanger in his office, he heads out, locking his office door and giving secretary Chae a wave and a lie. With that covered, Seungcheol heads out into the warm afternoon and makes the fifteen minute walk towards Pinwheel Books. 

Eighteen minutes later, he’s inside Pinwheel Books with a warm cup of yuan yang before taking a comfortable seat near the windows; watching out for Hakyeon. Only for the realization to hit him - he doesn’t know what the other man looks like and vice versa. How will they find each other? He nibbles on his lower lip and has his eyes scan the store, in the back corner is a couple of college students, furiously studying together while other patrons mill about idly. Seungcheol swallows, looking out of place until a familiar honeyed voice asks if the seat next to him is occupied. 

“No… Go ahead,” Seungcheol says, motioning towards the other plush leather chair. Gingerly, a tanned man with slightly wavy black hair, dressed in a simple long black peacoat and a thick wool scarf, sits down; a cup of what smells like lavender in his hands. The man looks over at Seungcheol and gives the younger a soft, motherly smile. 

“Detective Choi,” the man says. “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” 

“You… You’re Hakyeon…?” Seungcheol stutters out, all the words catching in his throat once more. When he imagines a mad scientist, he imagined a man with electrifying, messy white hair sporting a look akin to never leaving the depths of their lab. He did not expect a man that could pass off for an aristocrat to be sitting in front of him, calmly sipping that cup of lavender. 

“Did you expect anything less? Or perhaps, you expected me to be much more devilishly handsome?” The man gives a mischievous glint in his words and eyes, taking Seungcheol back once again. If he considered Jongdae difficult, then Hakyeon might be an entirely different story; as the latter lacks a clear way to read him. It’s like reading a brand new book backward, and it’s in Hebrew. Seungcheol simply cannot predict what the other might say next and his own foresight begins to fail. 

Hakyeon lets out a laugh, reaching over and slapping Seungcheol on the shoulder lovingly. “Don’t look like that, I’m just teasing you. Anyways,” he says, his voice shifting in a blink of an eye. “What about this ‘nullification power’ you were telling me about on the phone?” Somehow that dislodges the lump in the younger’s throat, and a violent waterfall of words pours out. The older simply sits there, listening as Seungcheol continues to talk, leaning closer with interest. 

“What do you think?” Seungcheol asks, gulping down his yuan yang to soothe his dry throat. The older man doesn't respond, sipping his cup and closing his eyes. Five minutes pass by without either man talking before finally, Hakyeon opens his eyes. 

“I think it’s possible, but I haven’t heard of it before,” he says after much thought. “I’ll have to do some more research on it before I could give you a definitive answer.” He stands up, bundling up his peacoat. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Detective Choi. Unfortunately, I must head out. Errands and things to run. I’ll contact you later on.” Seungcheol stands up as well, scrambling to pull out his business card only for the older man to reject it without hesitation. 

“How would you—”

“I have my ways.” With that mysterious saying, he throws his scarf over his shoulder and heads out into the sunny afternoon. Seungcheol watches the dark scarf flutters in the light breeze, until the navy blue disappears in a sea of leaves.

* * *

The apartment is dark, lonely, and empty when Junhui walks in at nine-thirty pm. The cold air that follows him around chills him to the bone as he shuffles through the dimly lit living room and towards his shared bedroom. The point of having roommates is to have someone, anyone, be there in the apartment to make it feel a little homey. But, he supposes that’s just too much to ask. He loosens his tie, discarding his work clothes into a small heap on the floor before slipping on something more comfortable for the night. His heart echoes in his ears as he buries his hands into his hair, looking at the floor. For a moment, he wants to message his roommates to ask them where they are - but that seems much too needy. And for fucks’ sake, Junhui Wen is a grown-ass man who can take care of himself. Why does he need someone to help with his issues when everyone’s so damn busy? 

His stomach growling pulls him out of his pity party. His footing is unstable but manageable as he wanders to the kitchen - ignoring yet another note of excuses as to why no one’s home. Junhui gets it, it’s hard to balance one’s life - look at his own life as an example. He isn’t the poster child of proper time management. Hell, he hasn’t even had time to simply sit down and have a proper meal. Maybe next time, his meals wouldn’t consist of what a broke college student would eat. As the water boils for his noodles, his eyes land on a full bottle of some kind of clear liquid without a label. It looks like a triangular flask with a pointed lid - the shape of an upside-down diamond. Picking it up, he pops the lid and takes a whiff. 

The smell of paint thinner and alcohol quickly penetrates his senses - his mental library floods with memories of his secondary school days (none of which are pleasant by any means). But at his mental breaking point, does Junhui really care if he wakes up on a Friday morning with a deadly hangover? No, no he does not - his mind feels like he’s floating on clouds as that choice quickly comes into view. Grabbing the largest mug he could find - which happens to be a copper goblet a few mates got him for graduation from secondary school (yes, while getting wasted on a Thursday night Junhui plans on being as fucking fancy as he can be) - he fills half of it with vodka and the rest with lemonade. 

The vodka-lemonade mixture burns as he downs it, feeling the sting as it churns in his stomach. Maybe it isn’t the best idea to drink so much before eating but dammit, he’ll do what he wants - even when making bad choices. Junhui creates the mixture again, bringing it along with his cup noodles to the barely used sofa. A leather sofa shouldn’t be this comfortable but it is; his limbs feel heavy the second he sits on it. Eyes closing, he pours the cough syrup flavoured mixture down, ignoring the burn the second time around. As well as the dizziness that follows when his mind flies towards space, not realizing someone is about to enter his unlocked apartment. 

Yeonjun knows it’s a terrible idea to show at someone’s home uninvited (being warned several times to call or text beforehand) but he feels like he doesn’t have a choice. Kai isn’t answering his phone and Soobin, well, who would ever want to burden their crush with heavy shit? There’s no way in hell would he ever talk to Seungkwan about his brother, that’s just horribly awkward and not needed at this moment in life nor would he talk to Seungkwan’s boyfriend Vernon (they’re actually not that close with each other yet). So the only person left is JiWoo - not an ideal situation but it’ll have to do. If Yeonjun doesn’t talk to someone soon, he’ll explode from all the pent up energy lingering within his body. Plus, does he even  _ need  _ an excuse to visit his favourite Virgo? He thinks not. 

Tapping his foot in the pristine elevator he wonders if this is even worth the forty-minute walk. But he’s already here, too late to turn back now without looking like an idiot. He steps off the elevator and takes the short walk towards JiWoo’s apartment. The door swings open, unlocked, the second he knocks. Had he been a tad more attentive, he might’ve thought it was odd for them to keep their doors unlocked. After all, JiWoo’s brother is paranoid by default, normally checking the door (by locking and then unlocking and finally locking it again) three times before leaving. But Yeonjun is far too frazzled to think rationally at this point. 

“Hello?” Yeonjun calls out, toeing off his shoes. “Is anyone home?” The apartment seems rather quiet, but that could be chalked up to his friend and her roommates’ introverted natures. Yet, with the low hum of the lights above, it tells Yeonjun that it isn’t the typical silence. Defeated, he almost turns to leave when he hears a small sniffle coming from the living room. It’s quiet but Yeonjun Choi is blessed with the ears of a musician. His socked feet muffles any sound he makes as he tiptoes towards the living room. 

As he walks, a sheet of Pusheen memo paper catches his eye. Mainly due to the oddity of it being on such a fancy hallway table. Leaning over, he squints to read the small handwriting. The mental effort it takes for him to translate it from Korean to English has Yeonjun’s head feeling like jelly. As if translating (which is something he does on a daily basis) is too much effort. But the gist of it is that everyone went out for some drinks to unwind and promised to return by midnight at the latest. But the sniffling from the living room grows louder with every second. 

“Hello?” Yeonjun calls out again. 

This time he receives a response. “Is there a cat in my house?” The speech sounds slurred like the speaker had just woken up from a nap. Yeonjun walks carefully, in case JiWoo’s roommate Soonyoung is home. The last thing he wants is to be thrown into a glass table, so imagine his surprise when he sees JiWoo’s oldest roommate drunk out of his mind, lying facedown on the floor. Judging from the near-empty diamond-shaped bottle, the man had more than enough to drink for one night. 

“Uh… sure.” Yeonjun walks over, carefully helping the man up. (For the life of him, he can’t remember the guy’s name - so for now, he’s just dubbed the Drunk British Man; DBM for short). DBM sways from the gesture, cheeks looking flushed while his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. His body flops against Yeonjun lifelessly as Yeonjun hurries around, looking for some water. Hangovers are not fun, and Yeonjun knows that far too well especially after breaking into Siwon’s liquor cabinet when he first landed in America. Ah, teen drinking - what a memory he had. 

“Ah,” DBM says, chuckling despite the tears filling his eyes. “The cat left me too. I’m all alone.” He starts croaking out  _ All by Myself  _ while waving his hand in the air like he’s at a concert. 

“Here, drink this.” Yeonjun hands the glass of water to DBM, watching him down it in a single gulp. 

“The cat is back. I’m not alone after all.” 

“What makes you think you’re alone?” Yeonjun asks, sitting on the carpet with DBM. The sniffles return as the older man lays his head against Yeonjun’s shoulder, his hand wrapped around the glass of water. There’s a ragged breath in before DBM starts talking, his voice cracking with every slurred word that comes out of his mouth. 

“I’ve always been alone,” DBM hiccups, clutching the water glass close to his chest, openly sobbing. “No one remembers me, if they did they don’t care enough to let me know what they’re doing.” He wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve, laughing hollowly. “That bloody note… I can’t even read it. Why are people always leaving? Why do people leave when I finally get used to being loved?” His words, though incoherent, stabs painfully into Yeonjun’s heart. Suffocating him as he listens to the very raw ramblings of a drunk man. Everything he hears sounds all too familiar for him to handle. 

When you finally let your guard down, that’s when someone leaves. Why bother being vulnerable to anyone when all they do is leave in one way or another? Yeonjun curls into himself, feeling his heart shatter as memories of his mom and Seungcheol flood his mind. His first brick wall went up the moment Seungcheol left - that’s when Yeonjun learned that love isn’t given freely as one might expect. The second wall went up the moment his mom passed away and no one but him and his cousin showed up to the funeral. 

Does anyone know how it feels to stand in the pouring rain with tears cascading down your cheeks and there’s no one around to comfort you? The flowers he bought for his mom died in his hands that day, so did his faith in anything related to family. It’s funny, you think family is supposed to be there unconditionally yet, sometimes they aren’t. 

He feels himself wrap his arm around DBM, rubbing his arm in comfort. The man continues to wail, hiccupping drunkenly as he does so. “A-An-And here I thought for once I wouldn’t have to come home to an empty apartment… But, I should be used to this. If I’m used to it, why does it still hurt so much?” Yeonjun doesn’t have an answer for that. All he can do is help the man to bed, clean up the living room, and leave without leaving a trace of him behind. It’s like all of this didn’t happen.  _ Which is better this way. It’s easier after all.  _

* * *

Nearing eleven-thirty, almost two hours since they left, Jihoon suddenly remembers that one important thing that’s been nagging at him the entire time they’re at the bar. (What is up with his memory lately? It’s like he’s forgetting the simplest things now). With his drink in hand, he patiently waits until Wonwoo and Soonyoung return from the bar - a soda for Wonwoo and something over ice for Soonyoung.

“Wonwoo,” he says, grabbing his drink and taking a sip. It tastes like a chemical burn, searing the flesh of his throat. “Did you leave a note for Jun?” 

Wonwoo looks up, mouth full of soda. “Yeah. But I didn’t know how to write it in English so I wrote it in Korean.” There’s a comical beat of silence as Jihoon stares at Wonwoo, who unnervingly stares back, all while Soonyoung stuffs his face with peanuts in the background. 

“You idiot, Jun doesn’t know Korean!” Jihoon explodes. His uncontrolled temper causes the flames of the fireplace near the entrance to explode a bit (scaring the passing waitress as she walks by their table with drinks for another group). “He’s Chinese you uncultured egg tart!” The flames shoot up from the fireplace as Jihoon’s temper rises. Soonyoung just watches in awe as flames dance around in the glass container despite the fire hazard it poses to the Holiday Bar. 

“You should’ve said something!” Wonwoo counters back. 

“You’re his friend too, you don’t know that much about your own friend!?”

“In my defense, we’re both really busy and… Well, he doesn’t have a Chinese accent or speaks it ever!” Another pregnant pause lies between the three friends as a realization dawns upon them. None of them fully know their Chinese friend very well (aside from his obvious British accent) or at all in fact. As Soonyoung lists all the possible areas of what they know about each other (like how Wonwoo doesn’t like seafood or Jihoon has an unhealthy addiction to rice), they come up short for Junhui. Though, whether it’s because they didn’t bother to learn about him or because Junhui is such a private person, they won’t ever know. 

The silence that envelops them after is suffocating - so much so that Soonyoung places his drink down, mourning at the fact they barely know one another. There’s so much to learn about someone despite being friends for nearly three years with Junhui, five years if we’re talking about Soonyoung. Seventeen years between Wonwoo and Jihoon, man imagine that, knowing each other for that long but still not completely knowing who they are? How tragic is that? Soonyoung starts to wonder if it’s even possible in the end to know everything about another person, especially the ones you love.

“Let’s move on…” Soonyoung weakly says. That’s when Wonwoo decides the older is an appropriate target to criticize and Soonyoung can feel irritation rising in his body. 

“When are you going to eat more?” Wonwoo asks, pushing up his glasses after they started sliding down his sweaty nose thanks to Jihoon’s temper. “You barely touched your dinner earlier.” 

Soonyoung’s mouth goes dry, his mind spinning as he comes up with a retort. It isn’t like he doesn’t eat - he eats, but sometimes it’s hard to keep up with a good eating schedule. Plus, he’s stressed, what with Highlight studios, school and Seokmin - there doesn’t seem to be  _ enough  _ time to eat. It’s like he’s losing control and he doesn’t know what to do about it. But being called out for something that he clearly did doesn’t sit well with him. 

He’s always had an explosive temper, but not much can set him off - not since high school when he went to those anger management classes and began channeling all his pent up emotions into dance. Now, with Wonwoo’s condescending voice penetrating his ears, Soonyoung can’t help but snap. “I did. Didn’t you see me eat?” He closes his fist around his drink, body shaking from the unexplainable rage that’s racing through his veins. Why is he feeling like this? 

Wonwoo scoffs. “Yeah but you barely made a dent in your rice.” 

“Maybe I didn’t want to eat so many carbs. I have a competition coming up and I need to be as fit as I can.” It’s a slight lie, but what harm can it really do? After all, the voice of his assistant choreographer still burns in the back of his mind whenever he picks up a bowl of white rice. “ _ You should start on a low-carb diet. Heard it’s good for you. _ ” She, then, gives a teasing squeeze to Soonyoung’s stomach. “ _ Look at all those extra carbs! _ ” Soonyoung doesn’t diet, never has or will, but perhaps consuming more protein will help him work longer - so he does what he does best: give it a try. 

“Is that even healthy?” Wonwoo asks, skeptically. Jihoon rubs his temples, annoyed already with the conversation. But something about Wonwoo’s self-righteousness pisses Soonyoung off. It isn’t like the younger is any better at taking care of himself. At least Soonyoung  _ attempts  _ to eat something throughout the day. Wonwoo, on the other hand, doesn’t. Hell, the dancer is pretty sure he hasn’t seen Wonwoo eat three meals in a day ever. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” Soonyoung snaps back. “Don’t preach about health when all you do is—” 

“Enough!” Jihoon shouts, ending the argument right there and then. “We’ll deal with this when we get home. Fucking finish this good shit and let’s go.” He rubs his temples again, feeling a sleep-deprived headache coming on. Wonwoo and Soonyoung yelling doesn’t help at all, making the pounding in Jihoon’s head worse. His two roommates grumble, quietly nursing their drinks before waving down a waitress for the bill. But all of them know that this issue, or rather their issues with one another, will never get solved. They do what everyone does and sweep them under the rug and pretend like nothing happened. 

After all, it’s easier that way. 

* * *

It’s early in the morning - five-thirty am in fact - when Junhui’s alarm goes off. His eyes feel heavy as he rolls from his bed, careful not to wake Wonwoo up at the other side of the room as he staggers from his bed and into the bathroom down the hall. His stomach lurches as he walks, as if he ate something bad. But for some reason, he can’t seem to remember what happened last night. He remembers leaving the office then what? What happened after that? His head hurts too much to really think about it properly. His mouth feels like mold has grown on it as he brushes his teeth, rinsing the taste of bile from his taste buds.  _ So, I threw up _ , he thinks, washing his face with a clean cloth. There are dark bags under his eyes, making them look puffy but Junhui doesn’t care all that much. Not when he’s too busy trapped in self-pity and self-hatred. He can’t even think straight as he prepares for the day. 

As he heads to the second floor of his penthouse, his footing slips, and had he not caught himself, Junhui could’ve been tumbling headfirst down a set of hard oak stairs. His heart races as he hurries down the stairs, ignoring the nausea that’s beginning to settle over him. For a second, he pauses at the kitchen sink, coughing into the empty basin as his stomach aggressively convulses. Nothing comes up, but his hair sticks to his forehead when he’s done dry heaving. 

_ God, I must look like such a mess, _ he thinks, wiping his mouth with a tissue. His stomach recoils in agony when Junhui makes his way (slowly this time) towards the door and down to the lobby. His head leans against the cool wall of the seventeenth floor when the sharp sound of Jeonghan’s cat door swings open and little Miss Ava comes trotting out. Through sweat-soaked hair, Junhui watches the cat sit down next to him, waiting for the elevator too. 

“Going down, love?” Junhui asks, with as much normalcy as he could. The last thing he wants today is to be sent home early because of a bloody stomach bug. Miss Ava gives him a meow in return, the pair patiently wait for the elevator. When one reaches their floor, the ding that accompanies the lift feels like a bullet shooting into Junhui’s skull. Miss Ava walks in first because she’s a lovely lady while Junhui sluggishly pulls himself in. 

The cat paws at his pants leg, demanding to be lifted but the mere thought of bending down has his stomach groaning in complaint. Nonetheless, this is part of his job, so he carefully kneels down and lifts her to the buttons, careful not to have any part of her touch his sensitive stomach. She smashes the eighth floor with her paw while Junhui presses the button to the lobby. The elevator closes as Junhui holds onto the cat, leaning against the cool metal. Miss Ava feels a lot heavier than the last time he held her but he could chalk it up to the stomach bug. 

When they near the eighth floor, Junhui places the cat down, feeling her rub her body against his pants leg before exiting the elevator. He doesn’t stick around to see where she’s going nor does he have the mental capacity to care. When the elevator reaches the lobby, he stumbles out, feeling like a zombie as he staggers towards the dark streets of AL-1. It’s so early in the morning that Tiffany, the receptionist, isn’t even at work yet. The cold morning air is a welcomed relief to the buckets of sweat he’s been producing since waking up. 

With his briefcase clutched tightly in his hand, he stumbles down the road - ignoring his growling stomach and parched throat. A part of him wonders if he should make a minor detour to that twenty-four-hour diner close to where he works. One half of his waterlogged brain thinks that there’s no harm in doing so - after all, it’s six in the morning and no one is going to be at the office. The other half reminds him that he has too much to do, too many papers to go through and if he doesn’t go through them all, he’ll fall behind.  _ But, I can do my work while I eat right? _ Every once in a while it’s okay to treat yourself and that’s what he does. 

Jam Jam Diner is mostly empty save for a couple of people in the back corner booth, either passed out or high out of their minds, Junhui can’t tell. The disgruntled waitress motions to any one of the empty tables, so Junhui picks the one closest to the window so he can watch the sunrise. Ten minutes after sitting down a plate with eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns land in front of him along with a piping hot mug of black coffee filled with roughly an inch of room left at the top. A small three oz creamer sits next to the hot mug. 

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” he mumbles

“You look like you’re having a rough day,” the waitress says, depositing some utensils next to him. “It’s on the house bud.” She grabs her rag from the other table and leisurely walks to the other side of the diner.  _ Right Here Waiting For You  _ by Richard Marx plays softly over the speakers of the lonely diner. Junhui can feel his head fall forward as he attempts to shovel food into his mouth - the taste of oily eggs never tasted so good. 

The sun rises at seven-thirty in the morning, close to when Junhui is nursing his second cup of coffee. Despite his raging headache, nausea still lingers within his body. The aggressive stomach bug is still violently attacking him from the inside out. The growing population of loud truckers passing through. Just as Junhui’s about to leave, the door swings open and someone slides into the seat across from him. 

“Sorry mate,” he mumbles, fishing into his pockets for his wallet. “I’m just about done.” 

“Really? I was hoping you’d stay a little longer,” Minghao says, giving Junhui a small smile when the older whips his head up. All that food he just consumed threatening to come right back up and honestly, Junhui wishes it would. At least, it’ll give him an excuse to leave at this very moment - yet his body betrays him. He doesn’t vomit nor does he make any effort to move. Hell, he doesn’t even care that he looks like a walking disaster in front of someone he loves so dearly.  _ Get away from that stupid thought.  _

“I guess I could use another coffee,” Junhui mumbles, returning his freezing hands around the mug. Minghao hums in response as the disgruntled waitress from earlier stops back and slides Minghao a cup of coffee with the creamer. She gives the younger a look that Junhui’s waterlogged brain can’t figure out for the life of him. A sly smile spreads across her face as Minghao’s cheeks heat up, causing him to dip his head down and stare bashfully into the dark liquid. 

When the waitress leaves, Minghao clears his throat. “I’ve never seen you in anything but a suit.” Junhui looks down at himself, an oversized sweatshirt (with the hood pulled up to hide the fact that his hair is oilier than a grease fire) and some track pants he found. It’s nowhere close to the professional façade he upholds every day to give everyone some idea of how he’s holding himself together. But much like how he feels, his attire tells everyone he’s falling apart at the seams; which may be why he normally reserves these types of outfits for behind closed doors. 

“Thought it’d be a good change,” he says instead, sipping his cold coffee now. The bittersweetness lingers on his tongue like bile. “Or more rather, I feel like absolute rubbish, and what good is that in a suit? You can’t be feeling rubbish while in a suit, that’s madness.” Minghao cracks a grin, hiding his laughter behind the lip of the mug, taking an obnoxious sip from it. 

The pair sits in perfect silence and within that small span of time, Junhui realizes that this is something he could get used to. Sure, to him, silence is scary. In fact, it’s the scariest thing anyone could experience. But with Minghao, it’s so comfortable - not anywhere near the silence he’s been experiencing with his supposed friend now turned roommate. Wonwoo has always been the quiet type - this is something Junhui was aware of when he met the bloke years ago. But now, it seems like they can’t communicate to each other. It’s like they barely know each other at this moment. 

_ Yeah, like how Wonwoo left you a note in Korean. A language you can barely read. Doesn’t he know that I can’t read it or does he not care?  _

“Junhui?” Minghao says, breaking the older from his destructive trance. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to throw up. Or faint. Or throw up then faint.” 

“I’m fine,” Junhui says, despite not being fine at all. “I’m just… under the weather, I guess.” 

“Should you even be going to work?” 

“If I don’t go then who will do my job?” He can’t let Jeonghan down, he just can’t. If he does then who will ever take him seriously? Especially when his dad back in China wants Junhui to take over Lilili Yabbay when he finally retires. But he knows that his dad doesn’t want Junhui to be the one who takes the company over - not when he’s not enough to his own father. 

Minghao snorts. “I’m sure Jeonghan will take over your load. You really need some sleep.” 

“Why do you care so much?” Junhui asks, not out of spite but rather out of curiosity. It isn’t like he doesn’t like the extra attention - it’s rather nice to know someone cares about you - but they were never close with one another to really develop this sense of care.  _ That’s a lie - you loved him more than anything. He just doesn’t love you back.  _

“Is it wrong to care about someone you l—”

“It isn’t wrong; it’s just—” 

“Junhui, shut up and let me finish,” Minghao says, seriousness bleeding into his voice. Junhui shuts up, taking a long drink of his coffee. “It’s just… people care about those they’re close with. Enamoured if you want.” Minghao makes a noise of frustration, struggling to get the words out. It’s like there’s a mental block in his way and it can’t be pushed. Junhui’s mouth feels like it’s being filled with peanut butter, sticky and suffocating. His tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. 

“Where is this coming from?” Junhui asks quietly, feeling cold frost seeping through his fingertips and onto the ceramic mug. Ice shards slowly creeping around the corner. It takes all of his willpower to revert it back, pulling them away. “Why are you suddenly saying things like this? We had an agreement right?” 

“Yeah, but it’s because JiWoo - one of your roommate’s sister, I think - asked me about love, and despite not being able to answer her, she seemed to be okay with it,” Minghao replies, a sincere smile spreading across his face as he recounts that small moment. A twang of jealousy and envy courses through Junhui’s veins as he feels the ice surging through his body. It’s been a little over two months since they moved in and so far, Junhui feels like a stranger in his own home. Everyone seems to go out of their way to avoid him whenever he gets back from work. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel and yet, his mind is a horrible creature. 

A question pops into his mind, one that he can’t answer: why didn’t she ask him as well for some love advice? Sure, Junhui doesn’t have the best track record of successful relationships (hell, the longest one he had was a year and two months before she finally broke it off - citing his own shortcomings as the reason they couldn’t continue) but he would have still been helpful. It seems like anything would have helped JiWoo understand the complex nature of love and it wouldn’t have mattered if Junhui didn’t have a good relationship track record.

_ But what happens if it does? What happens if Minghao has a better track record than you and that’s why she went to talk to him?  _ He swallows that glass ball down and forces an indifferent yet supportive smile on his face. His vision is swimming as he stares blankly at the younger man. The word ‘fun’ crosses his mind when Minghao mentions the conversation. Another attack of envy flooding Junhui’s thoughts. 

_ Is there something wrong with me?  _ He can’t remember the last time he had a fun conversation. The glass ball in his throat grows even larger, making swallowing a lot harder.  _ Maybe there is something wrong; people tell me so all the time.  _ His unusual silence must’ve caught Minghao by surprise as he asks if there’s something wrong. Should Junhui even say what’s on his mind? A voice in his head tells him ‘No, he’ll think you’re so whiny.’ So, he chokes down the glass ball, feeling it slice up his throat in revenge for his childish thoughts, and gives Minghao a pained smile. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Junhui says a little too quickly to be deemed as normal. “We should get going.”

“What about your illness?” Minghao asks, pulling out enough bills to cover both of them and the tip. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

With a tight-lipped smile, Junhui doesn’t respond - his vision might be still swimming and his stomach may still feel queasy as all hell - but he isn’t going to let some stomach bug keep him from working. No sir, not when burying himself in piles of paperwork seems to be the only way to silence those sneering voices in his head.

* * *

The clock strikes twelve in the morning, the chime of the grandfather clock echoing throughout the empty home. Seungcheol isn’t sure why he’s even here nor does he know where he even is. The home looks like the ones one might see in Sector A-2 - homey and unremarkable in any way. Someone can walk right by it and not give it a second glance. So, Seungcheol is wondering why he’s even in the house when it’s so ordinary in every way. 

He takes a step from the living room - decorated in a nice black leather sofa, a well-used armchair, facing a flatscreen TV with video games lying about the beige carpet. The blinds are closed, making it harder for him to see, and that fucking grandfather clock is still chiming. Is it broken? Looking around, he’s unable to make out the small details of the home - he can’t seem to see the faces in the picture frames that decorate the hallway of the home. 

The clock chimes at midnight.  _ Bing, bong, bing, bong. _

He enters the first room he sees, the door left wide open. An unusual factor considering the room seems to be a ten-year-old’s bedroom. The edges of the room are fuzzy, like Seungcheol is looking through a narrow telescope, squinting as he tries to make out the clearer picture. An unmoving lump on the bed beckons him closer and with shaky hands he reaches out towards the checkered pattern comforter, pulling it back and letting out a— 

Seungcheol jolts awake, heart racing as he looks around his office. Dammit, he fell asleep at work again because he didn’t finish his readings the night before. Stretching, he cracks all his stiff joints as he’s about to pick up his readings once again when his office door busts open and Hoseok marches in. His silver hair (yes, on this police force, the very handsome police officer with ‘muscles that can cut marble’ has silver hair) falling over his bright eyes. 

“Seungcheol!” Hoseok says, slightly out of breath. “You need to come with me!” Seungcheol doesn’t get to say anything as Hoseok has the younger one in an iron grip and dragging him out. Seungcheol flails, unsure as to why he’s needed as he’s so close to unearthing a vital clue (one of the newspaper articles Agent Han sent him a week ago sounds promising). “It’s a literal emergency!” 

“What is it though!?” Seungcheol asks, slipping into the passenger seat of Hoseok’s car. “What’s so important?” 

“Another murder,” Hoseok says grimly, the car ride suddenly getting tense as the elder drives them to the home Seungcheol saw in his (dream? Vision? He’s not so sure anymore). A chill running down the cold case detective’s spine as the ordinary home comes into view. Swallowing, he prays that it isn’t anything like the vision he had but all of his visions have come true, one way or another. 

Shakily, he steps out of the police car, following his mentor closely as he does so. Seungcheol gives the lower ranking officers a curt nod as he walks by them, one of them looking visibly shaken by the sight. Inside, that feeling of dread comes into full play here - the layout of the living room looking exactly like the one in his vision. From the way the sofa is positioned to the closed blinds. And the one thing that solidifies his suspicions is the sound of a broken grandfather clock. 

“This place gives me the creeps,” Hoseok says, shuddering. Seungcheol can only numbly nod, his footsteps echoing amongst the chime of the clock. 

_ Bing, bong. Bing, bong.  _

They enter the first room - a child’s bedroom where bright yellow crime scene tape covers the doorway. The pair duck under as Ailee is busy photographing every inch of the child’s bedroom. The nausea that Seungcheol felt the second he entered the home increases as he stares at the bedroom. Everything within his vision scares the living shit out of him. If there’s one thing he never wants to come true is the death of an entire family. 

“Ailee,” Hoseok calls out, stopping the older woman in her tracks as she whips around. Her copper hair glinting in the sunlight. “What did you find so far?” 

“Well you missed the medical team wheeling out the body, so lucky you,” she deadpans, walking over to the duo. “It’s the Oliver family, two parents, one teenage daughter, and a ten-year-old son.” She shows them a picture-perfect family, complete with a white-picketed fence. Instantly, a profile forms inside Seungcheol’s head - though he concludes that there must be at least two assailants or they killed the father figure first as he is the biggest threat. 

“Any idea on who was killed first?” Hoseok asks, already speaking out Seungcheol’s mind. 

Ailee, however, shakes her head. “You’ll have to wait until Dr. Lee’s report is done. But judging by the broken grandfather clock, it seemed like the crime took place at midnight.” Hoseok nods, telling the younger detective he’s going to take a look around to see if he could find anything with his UV vision; his eyes glowing a fluorescent purple like a real UV light. Seungcheol merely nods, stepping out of the child’s bedroom and entering the master bedroom, down the hall. There, the crime scene looks completely different than the boy’s bedroom. 

Where the boy’s bedroom looked pristine, nothing out of place, the parents’ bedroom is chaotic. Objects being thrown everywhere, knives impaled into the walls, mirror pieces lying on the floor. He walks up to the knives, peering at it with a magnifying glass. 

“Hey,” he says to the rookie forensic investigator Joohyun Bae - or better known as Irene. “Did you dust this?” 

She nods. “Yeah, but there are no prints on it other than the family’s. It’s like the knives just flew there on their own.” Irene lets out a small chuckle. “Crazy if that  _ actually  _ happened.” Seungcheol nods, swallowing a sinking suspicion he has brewing in the pit of his stomach - ducking out of the master bedroom and finally into the teenage girl’s room. Much like the other two rooms, the third room looks utterly different. This room has something odd to it - where the bed and the areas around are soaked, while everything else is dry. It’s like the water was contained to one area of the house - something that shouldn’t be possible without drops of it being scattered around the house. 

He has a sinking feeling that it’s no ordinary act of violence. Nothing about it makes sense - why is each room different and how did no one hear the loud screams of the victims? If it’s one person committing this gruesome murder, how did he get away with it without anyone alerting the authorities? Not to mention the oddity of having no fingerprints on the weapon makes Seungcheol’s theory slowly becoming a reality. He turns, filing out of the room and meeting up with Hoseok in the living room. 

The elder turning towards him, a grim look on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

“That this might be the work of a contractor?” Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his eyes, finally realizing why these new strings of murders is somehow connected to the case he’s currently working on. There just remains two questions: how much is the government hiding and how many successful experiments are out there?


	12. It’s Been Too Peaceful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Can't We Just Leave The Monster Alive?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5n0gTb68Ew) by TXT

There’s a low buzzing sound ringing inside of Wonwoo’s ears - it’s like an annoying fly lingering around him; moving in too close. His head hurts from the lack of sleep he’s been getting the last few days. It’s gotten so bad that he’s been falling asleep during his lectures (which doesn’t help his fear of failing at all, but that’s saved for a different time). But each night, when he lays his head down to sleep, the same dream - liar, it’s a nightmare - continues to occur. It’s as if someone has been invading his dreams, filling them with the worst traits of humanity. 

There’s a rustic smell of blood as Wonwoo walks through the empty hallways - his hands feel numb and so does his mind. The buzzing sound continues to grow as he nears Junhui’s living room; already prepared for the day. His eyes are unfocused as he enters the lavish living room. Odd, the room is dark - impossible to see from how little light is filtering through the blackout curtains.  _ Where is Junhui?  _ Normally the elder is up, bright and early - opening up all the curtains to allow the ceiling-high windows to filter light in. It’s good for the various plants Wonwoo owns. And Junhui never misses a single day. 

“He must’ve forgotten,” Wonwoo chuckles to himself, making his way over to the window. His sock steps into something wet, sticking the fabric to the hardwood floor as he tries to walk. Again, it’s an oddity as Junhui (attempts to) keep the apartment clean - even if he is kind of a hoarder. Maybe one of them spilled something in the middle of the night and had forgotten to clean it up. _ Yeah, that seems likely. _ Wonwoo, then, pays it no mind, walking towards the curtains and yanking them open. 

That’s when Wonwoo realizes what he stepped into. That’s when the sound of screaming fills the bloodied room ( _ everyone, everyone’s dead. Who did… _ ). That’s when he notices his sticky hands - the rustic dark red covering every inch of skin of his hands. ( _ Murderer _ ). It doesn’t take him long to realize the screaming is coming from him.  _ (Murderer— _ )

“Wonwoo!” The voice of Mingyu brings Wonwoo back into reality - his tired eyes blinking away the fatigue as he looks around. He’s not in a bloodied living room anymore - he’s at a cafeteria lunch table with Mingyu after the younger one offered to bring him something to eat. “Are you okay? You look really pale.” 

“Huh…? Oh, yeah, I-I’m fine,” Wonwoo replies, rubbing his eyes. It doesn’t help that it’s midterm season, or rather, it’s starting to be that time of the year, and Wonwoo has been pulling all-nighters to get his never-ending pile of assignments done. “Just tired, you know what university is like.” Even his chuckle seems disingenuous to his own ears. Is he really going to kill people with his bare hands - especially when the people he’s about to murder are his own roommates and sister? However, there’s something at the foreground of his mind: why? Why are these nightmares happening? Is it because of stress? Is it because he keeps binge-watching paranormal videos at night whenever he needs a break from studying? 

Mingyu doesn’t look remotely convinced, eyes narrowing as his chopsticks hang in the air. He then points them at Wonwoo saying that, “You need to take better care of yourself here mister. Life isn’t about getting the best grades.” He shoves a container of rice towards Wonwoo. “If you’re not going to eat the meat, at least some of the rice. My sister made it.” Wonwoo simply stares at him, tentatively scooping some rice up. Unlike the bland flavour that he’s used to, he’s met with a sweet sensation. Gigi must’ve dumped a ton of sugar in it considering how sugary the rice tastes (and feels). 

“It’s sweet…” WonWoo says, looking at the plain white rice. “Don’t let Jihoon eat this, he’ll have a heart attack or something.” 

“It’s okay with meat.” But from the way Mingyu is forcing the rice down, it’s pretty clear that it isn’t fixed with meat. Nothing can fix a bowl of overly sweet rice, except feeding it off to someone else. With that, Wonwoo slams the lid on the disgustingly sweet rice and shoves it into his backpack. 

“What are you doing?!” Mingyu exclaims, covering the rest of his food as well. 

“Not wasting food,” Wonwoo deadpans. “Come on, I know someone who’ll eat this.” Grabbing his hand unconsciously, Wonwoo drags Mingyu towards the heart of town where he knows Joshua is working. When he pushes the door open, he sees Joshua in the corner of the cafe, eyes focused on Jeonghan. There’s something about the way the barista is smiling that causes a sharp pang of longing within Wonwoo’s chest. Mingyu protests behind him but the older doesn’t pay any mind - walking towards the barista and the CEO. Joshua’s eyes light up in minor recognition when he sees Wonwoo walking closer. 

“Oh… Um…” Joshua says, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion as if he doesn’t recognize Wonwoo at all. “I’m sorry, but can you tell me your name again?” 

“Huh?” Jeonghan says, looking at the barista in confusion. “How do you not know Wonwoo? Doesn’t he come here all the time?” 

“Does he now?” Joshua tilts his head like a lost kitten. Those innocent eyes blinking ever so slightly as he looks over at the student and baker. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t remember.” A small part of Wonwoo dies and he isn’t sure why he’s feeling like that. Mingyu shifts awkwardly next to the older, playing with his coat straps as he does so. Wonwoo doesn’t acknowledge Mingyu’s awkwardness nor does he comment on Joshua’s failing memory.  _ But he’s so young… shouldn’t he be…?  _

“I brought you something,” Wonwoo says, sliding down in a chair next to the couple. On the table, he notices two rose coloured cups, both half full. They must’ve been sitting uninterrupted for a while now - which makes the student and baker interrupting a whole lot more awkward. Though, it seems the two older men don’t mind the intrusion. That’s when Wonwoo pulls out the container of sugary rice and slides it over to Joshua. “It’s rice.” 

“Rice?” Joshua asks, picking up the container. “Why did you bring me rice?” 

“It’s  _ sweet _ rice,” Mingyu helpfully pipes up, a childish grin on his face. “My sister made it but… She added sugar into it.” 

“Ah! Thank you…” Joshua pauses yet again, another issue with his memory. “Mingyu. I’ll make sure to eat it tonight.” There’s another pause as Jeonghan stares at Wonwoo and Mingyu, eyebrows rising at the two before hiding his smirk with his cup. Not that they know what about - it’s probably just normal Jeonghan stuff, given how odd he can be. Joshua follows Jeonghan’s line of sight, staring at Wonwoo and Mingyu holding hands (and still are, going so far as to intertwine their fingers). Another suggestive eyebrow rises from Jeonghan before he picks up his coffee cup and brings it to his lips. 

“So,” Joshua says. “Are you two dating?” 

“What?” the pair asks in sync. (Jeonghan chokes on his coffee, unattractively spraying it back into the cup - not that anyone, except Kyungsoo, notices). 

“Where did that come from?” Wonwoo questions, furrowing his eyebrows. “Last time I checked we were—”

“But you two are holding hands,” Joshua states, pointing at their interlocking hands. “Unless…” Joshua doesn’t finish that thought, not when Mingyu awkwardly pulls his hand away. His cheeks flushing red from the intimate gesture. He just invaded Wonwoo’s personal bubble and held his hand like it was nothing. But, Mingyu does admit that Wonwoo’s hand feels perfect in his. He admits that having the older’s hand in his, it feels a bit lonely without it. But, they aren’t dating. That’s the most important factor here. Even if he wants it to come true so badly. 

At this point in Mingyu Kim’s life, he has to learn to accept that not everything is going to happen like they do in fairytales. In life, there is no happy ending. Biting back his disappointment, he blurts out that he should get going, leaving Wonwoo behind at the table only to watch him walk away, dejection all over his face.

“Aren’t you gonna go after him?” Jeonghan asks, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips when Wonwoo frowns at him. “Go on, he shouldn’t have gotten far by now.”

“Why?” Wonwoo simply asks, sighing. “Nevermind, I have to get back to school. Goodbye.” With that, he’s up and walking out of the cafe, head down as he goes the opposite way Mingyu had left. 

“Will he be okay?” Joshua asks, worry dripping in his tone. He feels like he missed something there just now but what?

“He’ll be fine.” Jeonghan waves a hand, downing the rest of his coffee. “I probably should get back to work,” he adds, checking the time on his watch before jumping out of his seat. “Feel free to run after me too. Just give me a few minutes so it’s more romantic when you run around the corner and call out my name, alright?” He winks. 

“I have to get back to work too, goodbye,” Joshua deadpans, getting up to head back to the counter. He can hear the offended gasp the blond man lets out and smiles to himself, peeking over his shoulder. “Have a good day at work, Soulmate.” He waves, blushing at the sight of Jeonghan’s angelic smile. His cheeks flush a darker shade of red when Jeonghan blows him a kiss before backing out of the cafe all in one smooth movement. He chuckles when he sees the man bump into one of the patio chairs outside, knocking it over and causing a ruckus. 

“Boss?” San’s voice nearly scares the coffee he just drank right out of him, causing him to dramatically fall onto the floor. A creepy smile spreads across San’s lips as he helps the assistant manager up, briefly apologizing for frightening him, it was not his intent. Or was it? “Please teach me how to use the milk frother again? I  _ forgot. _ ” Joshua can’t help but notice the look in his eyes. They’re dark and twisted, and suddenly he feels a sense of fear overcome him until a customer speaks up, asking for someone to take her order. 

For a split second, San looks like he wants to murder her for interrupting but that vanishes when he puts on his customer service face and greets her warmly. That familiar sharp pain, the one that feels like it’s splitting Joshua’s skull open with an ice pick returns.  _ What’s wrong with me?  _ he wonders, trying to keep it together so he can help San make the complex order.  _ The lid. Remember to put a lid on it. _

* * *

Kai shouldn’t be anxious looking after Mr. Yoon’s adorable nephew and cat but all those times happened to be for a couple of hours before Mr. Yoon comes back and profusely thanks Kai for his time. Now, it’s a bit different, it’s looking after a six-year-old and an obese (or pregnant) cat for an entire weekend while Mr. Yoon and his assistant Junhui are away on a business trip. In fact, it happened to be eight-thirty in the evening when Mr. Yoon knocked on their apartment door. Kai gets up from his spot on the sofa and gets a nice armful of a very sleepy Chan and a duffel bag. 

“I’m so sorry for coming so late,” Mr. Yoon says quickly as he steps into the apartment. Chan clings onto Kai, burying his face into the crook of the teenager’s neck as the boy tries to shield his eyes from the bright light. “But, I’m suddenly being called on a business trip and well… long story short, I don’t have anyone to look after Chan and Miss Ava,” he says as he sets this pink, blinged out cat carrier down along with shoving a manila envelope into Kai’s house coat pocket, telling the teenager that it has everything he could ever need inside the envelope to take care of both the child and pet before thanking him again and darting out. He thought to leave Chan and Miss Ava with Junhui’s roommates but it’s clear everyone has already made plans for the weekend, the only free souls left were Wonwoo and his sister. He knows the biology student wouldn’t survive an entire weekend with little Chan. Let alone he doesn’t want JiWoo being a negative influence on the boy with her creepy and concerning music she likes to play.

Left with a sleepy child and a disgruntled cat, Kai quietly shuts the front door with his hip, scurrying to the living room and depositing the boy on the soft sofa (that literally can sink you into their cushiony depths if one is not careful) before hurrying back to get the cat. 

“Okay,” he tells himself, setting the carrier down on the ottoman. “You can do this Kai, despite having like, a good eight hours of babysitting experience. You can totally take care of a six-year-old for two days.” He, then, realizes that he can’t do it since he doesn’t know how to open the stupid cat carrier. The pink is making it hard for him to think. Not to mention, the cat starts to meow, loudly. She paws at the cage, demanding to be let out - oh if only Kai knew how. 

Again, the doorbell rings, causing Kai to groan. “Oh come on. I’m sorry Miss Ava. I’ll be right back! I swear!” She lets out an indignant meow, flopping down and resting her head on her paws. Kai hears Chan mumble something as he yanks the door open to see Soobin and Taehyun standing there, sleeping bags in hand as well as what smells like cinnamon buns. Right, he forgot that today also happened to be TXT’s meeting/sleepover at a random band member’s house, something they’ve been doing for the past month. 

“Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?” Soobin asks, walking in and toeing off his shoes - not paying any attention to the extra duffel bag lingering by the door. “Also, I brought cinnamon buns! Maybe that’ll solve your ghost problem,” he happily chimes despite Kai’s distraught appearance. 

“What kind of ghost wants cinnamon buns?” Taehyun asks, following Soobin. “Also, Kai, whose duffel bag is this?” The older holds up Chan’s bag as Kai struggles to regain his words - his mind panicking as he knows for a fact that Beomgyu is going to wake Chan up with his chatterbox self. From the living room he can hear Miss Ava meow again, causing Taehyun to raise his eyebrow.

“So…” Kai says sheepishly, running his hand through his unruly hair. “Funny story. But uh, you know my neighbour?” 

“Which one?” Taehyun deadpans, what makes Kai think his friends will know which neighbour he’s talking about when he lives in a seventeen floor building with hundreds of tenants? 

“The fashion company CEO on the top floor,” Kai answers as Taehyun nods. Kai closes the door and heads down the hallway, telling his bandmates the situation as they go. Just as the pair is about to enter the living room, the doorbell rings once again, forcing Kai back to the door - letting Yeonjun and Beomgyu in. (Turning away when Beomgyu kisses his long-time girlfriend Rory goodbye, grimacing at how domestic they are [he supposes he can understand why JiWoo claims to dislike seeing such acts in public]). Yeonjun, that fiend, loops his arm around Kai, asking him if he’s asked JiWoo out yet. 

“Shut up,” Kai mumbles, burying his red face in his hands. 

“So, you didn’t,” Yeonjun retorts. “What a shame. Even after she got you that stuffed penguin, too.” 

Just as Kai is about to snap back with something witty (or as witty as Kai could make it to be) a shrill scream echoes through the apartment. For a second, Beomgyu and Kai freeze while Yeonjun dashes down the hall. Kai can feel his heart rate accelerating as the screaming continues, getting louder as time passes. He doesn’t remember entering the living room, where Chan is upright against Soobin’s chest as the little boy’s eyes stare blankly at the group of teenagers. Miss Ava is yowling in her carrier as her paws try to tear up the metal gate keeping her locked in. 

“What’s going on!?” Yeonjun asks, kneeling in front of a glassy eyed Chan, who looks on with those dead eyes. “Why did he start screaming?” 

“I think he’s having a night terror,” Soobin replies, holding down Chan’s thrashing limbs. “Does anyone know what will calm him down?” Within seconds, the glassy look to Chan’s eyes flashes a light pink (rose quartz Kai thinks) as a massive wall of black ink appears before them. Like there is an invisible pen floating in the air, coherent words begin to form. 

“The cat is telling us to let her out,” Beomgyu says, his own eyes turning a deep blood red colour as Miss Ava continues to yowl at the top of her little cat lungs. “She’s saying something about chaotic energy being out of control.”

“That doesn’t help at al—” Taehyun is interrupted when Soobin lets out a shriek, being flung across the room by an invisible entity. Kai quickly reads the first sentence that the pen wrote out: 

**Soobin Choi gets haunted by a vengeful spirit of a former high school football star for three days or until the person in question is admitted to a mental hospital**

“Oh my god,” Kai gasps out, stumbling back until he falls on his bottom. Items around them begin to swirl up above. The spirit hurls things at his friend while everyone else tries to help, only to be blocked by some kind of barrier, preventing them from getting closer to their friend. Beomgyu looks over at Chan, still stuck in his night terror, ultimately deciding that they have to wake him up. 

Beomgyu runs over to the boy, only stopping in his tracks as his blood runs cold at the sight of his own curse being written out. 

**Beomgyu Choi will fracture one of his ankles during a dance practice three weeks from now, making him unable to perform for the re—**

“Stop!” Taehyun shouts, his hand running through the text, only for the ink to burn him. A dark splotch appearing on his hand, growing with menace. 

“Kai,” Yeonjun says, tugging the youngest away from spirit haunting Soobin (much to the distress of everyone in the Jung household). “Do you have that song ‘Goodnight to the Moon’ by Ren?” Kai stares at his friend, unsure as to how a song about telling your lover goodnight through the moon would help anything, but judging by the determination on Yeonjun’s face there doesn’t seem to be another option. Kai nods, pulling out his phone and connecting it to a speaker. 

Suddenly, Ren’s angelic and comforting voice fills the chaotic living room. Like magic, the spirit that was inside Kai’s apartment disappears. The massive wall of ink that once surrounded Chan melts away as the boy falls back down on the carpet (Soobin quickly catching him before his head hits the floor). 

Taehyun turns to Yeonjun, his burnt hand healing on its own. “How… How did you…?”

“You really don’t think that song is about a missing lover do you?” Yeonjun asks incredulously. The group quiets down as they pay close attention to the lyrics. 

_ Even when we’re far away, _

_ Even when you can’t see the path ahead, _

_ Even when the day seems so long _

_ Look into the midnight sky and see the moon _

_ Shining, shining, shining _

_ I’ll be there by your side _

_ Holding your hand _

_ Guiding you along the moonbeams _

_ You’re not alone anymore _

Beomgyu wipes the budding tears that prickle the corner of his eyes. “That’s so sweet. Are you sure it isn’t for a lover?” A small “Aha!” can be heard in the background as Taehyun figured out the carrier, allowing Miss Ava to prance out and head over to Chan’s sleeping body. As Yeonjun explains the message of the song to his clueless members, something dawns upon Kai as the song repeats itself. The song is written from the perspective of someone who’s deceased. A newfound respect creeps into Kai’s heart as he listens to the song once more with this new perspective. The words finding comfort in his soul as the exhaustion from earlier lulls him to sleep. 

_ Oh, my love - don’t you cry _

_ Say goodnight to the moon _

_ Open your arms wide for my embrace _

_ I’ll take you on a journey  _

_ Up into space; where nothing will hurt you _

_ So, my love, don’t you cry _

* * *

JiWoo wins for the eighth time in a row against her brother in Bag O’ Luck (a fighting game Wonwoo won in a raffle) and they’ve been playing since seven this morning. Three hours have passed by when JiWoo checks her phone while her brother gets them something to drink. Man, does the time really fly. It’s been a while since she’s gotten to have this much fun with her brother, in fact, she thinks the last time she’s had some fun with him was during his first year in college. 

That was four years ago, and ever since then, he’s been swamped with a million assignments as well as attempting to cope with his own mental health issues. But now, he’s caught up on all his school work and seeing a therapist for his progressively hard to manage OCD - something that’s been ruining his life as well as the people around him. In fact, JiWoo can pinpoint the potential stressor that caused Wonwoo’s OCD to get worse - it’s when the four of them, last minute, moved into Junhui’s penthouse apartment at the end of summer break, just before school started up again. 

They were staying in Jihoon’s parents house for the last five years but as life goes, things change. The hasty decision was made on Jihoon’s part when he heard his parents were retiring and decided they should have their home back. Luckily they didn’t end up homeless on the street when Junhui made the generous offer to let them move in on such short notice, he has the extra space so why the fuck not? It was a massive change they all had to get used to and it seemed like Wonwoo wasn’t coping so well. 

She doesn’t blame him however as they had so many non-human friends (mainly stray cats and various houseplants) they had to leave behind when they moved into Junhui’s apartment. (Though, they definitely do not miss the jerk squirrel who’d mess up Wonwoo’s garden from time to time, along with the bird feeder JiWoo would leave out for her little bird friends.) She thinks about visiting her old neighbourhood sometimes, just to see if any of those stray cats are still hanging around there. However, Jihoon’s retired mother might have taken over the garden maintenance as well as the task of feeding the strays. It’s just that neither Wonwoo nor JiWoo has summoned up the courage to ask the veteran. Speaking has always been something both siblings struggle immensely with, a feat that can be both useful and challenging. Yet, whenever something bothers them, they’re not sure how to cope - it’s like the words are strangling them every time they open their mouth. 

Usually, JiWoo tries her best to help Wonwoo manage it by being there for him but with his insane class schedule that’s been impossible. And it was getting to the point where she didn’t  _ want  _ to constantly be the one who manages his mental health. Especially when her brother would constantly wake her up in the middle of the night to make sure she’s still alive and breathing. Yelling at him won’t help and locking her door won’t do any good (he would totally break down the door if we’re honest). 

At first, it was immensely difficult trying to convince him that he needs professional help but as the disorder continued to consume his life, he finally agreed. JiWoo is just glad he had listened to her in the end. Thanks to the therapy with Minhyun (recommended by Jihoon) life hasn’t been so difficult lately. Her brother seeing a therapist has made a huge difference in coping skills. 

But as she thinks about it, JiWoo isn’t so sure how he managed not to break down on campus these past few weeks but she’s glad he didn’t. She’s not sure what kind of chaotic mess that would cause in the public eyes. It’s one thing to be a normal person and experience a mental breakdown, but it’s another to be a contractor and experience a mental breakdown. They say most contractors’ powers can be triggered by emotional stress and trauma, it’s best to avoid it at all cost whether you’re in public or not. Something like that isn’t so easy when it seems like all contractors are cursed with mental stressors (see Wonwoo and Seokmin for example). 

But all in all, things aren’t too stressful for everyone. However, things have been too calm, too good, too perfect for her liking. At points she can’t help think maybe something’s just about to break. It’s always been like that, whenever something is going incredibly well something always happens and everything’s all ruined. Sometimes it’s hard to even enjoy being happy but she’s been trying. She wants to believe it’s all in her head, that it’s just a cliché that doesn’t really happen in real life.

“Hey,” her brother’s voice snaps her out of her deep thoughts. “Something on your mind?” 

“Huh?” She turns to see him rubbing his tired eyes under his glasses. “You can go back to sleep if you want, we’ve played enough, right?” she says softly while returning to the main menu of the game. 

“I’m okay, I just noticed you seemed lost in thought. Is there anything you want to talk about while we’re still here?” That’s right, Wonwoo has midterms coming up and he’ll soon become too busy to hang out like this again. JiWoo thinks about what she might want to say, feeling a massive whirlpool of words swirling in her mind. They promised each other that they’d be there for the other no matter what, that they’d try to talk more and close that growing gap between them. But sometimes she thinks the distance is too great and it might be too late to build a bridge. Despite that, she still gives it a shot when thinking about that night when he opened up to her about his feelings for Mingyu. 

“I think I’ve been poisoned,” she blurts out, almost sending her brother into a panic attack. “No, not literally!” she clarifies, telling her brother to breathe, guiding him to put his phone down before he calls poison control for no good reason. “I just meant… I think I might like someone? But I’m not so sure. I just feel… like something's off these days. Like my face gets hot, my heart rate goes up or I feel that weird feeling you get when you’re on a roller coaster and it drops from like fifty feet in the air... it feels like I’m dying.” 

It’s true, lately these days when she and Kai study in the library at school, she can’t help but feel that strange fluttering feeling in her chest. Sometimes it’s even hard to focus on her homework as she would watch him explain, eyes admiring how incredibly handsome he really is. Since when does she focus on things like that? The way her heart skips a beat whenever he’d smile brightly at her, or say encouraging words when she’d get down about not getting a particular formula right. She just sees him differently all of a sudden. Goddamn, she’s even caught herself sneaking around to watch him practicing in the music room during lunch before. 

“Oh?” The look on her brother’s face makes her want to laugh. It looks like he’s constipated with a mix of shock and disapproval but she totally gets it. Siblings are often protective of each other. “Well, who is it? Do I have to interrogate them?” 

“Uhm.” She hesitates at first before going on to describe in vague detail about the person. First off, it’s a guy. Secondly, he does music. Thirdly, she can’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy when she’s around him, especially when he performs songs. 

As she talks about this mysterious man, Wonwoo can’t help but think of all the times he noticed her looking at their roommate Jihoon, with what he can only assume looks like a deep infatuation, fondness, or love. He can remember the twinkle in her eyes whenever she’d watch him perform a new song in the living room to get her feedback. The description of this man leads him to believe it’s Jihoon she’s talking about and he worries he has to break the news to her that not only is he too old for her but he’s also already engaged. How does one explain to their baby sister that the person she likes won’t like her back?

“But I know it won’t work out,” she sighs, staring out the living room window like some cliché anime character. “Because he’s popular at my school and I know he can do so much better than be with a girl like me. We’re the complete opposite of each other. He’s extroverted, I’m introverted. He’s loud, I’m quiet. He’s sweet and kind and I’m just…” She gestures vaguely to herself, as if to say she’s not good enough. How would they even work when she’s afraid of commitment, let alone she’s still on the fence about PDA, or so she thinks. 

When she used to think about it, it would definitely make her uncomfortable and sometimes physically sick (maybe that’s a bit too dramatic) but when she thinks about Kai… it’s a whole different story. She feels different around him but she can’t seem to figure out why? Is it because he’s nice to her? But his other friends are also nice to her too, so it can’t be just niceness. Is it because he’s handsome? She scoffs at that thought. Let’s be honest, everyone’s handsome in her small group of friends and even if society says they aren’t, she still thinks they’re beautiful. 

“I just don’t understand if what I’m feeling is platonic love or…” She’s never been in love before, so how would she know? She once asked Junhui’s questionable friend Minghao about it a short while ago when they bumped into each other in the elevator. She had been conversing with too many of her non-human friends on the walk home that day, ultimately forcing her to blurt out what she was honestly thinking at the time. When asking what it means to be in love, Minghao awkwardly said he wasn’t so sure himself. Granted, she could talk to Seungkwan about it but she’s not ready to have that conversation just yet. 

“I just feel different around Kai and I’m not sure what to do about it.” The record that’s been playing in Wonwoo’s head suddenly stops, jerking to an irritating screech.  _ Kai? _

“Oh, I thought you were talking about Jihoon for a minute there,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief. Thank god, his baby sister isn’t in love with someone engaged and five years older than her.

“What? Jihoon? Why?” She looks over at him in complete confusion. 

“Well… it’s just you seem to look at him differently than the rest of our roommates.” 

“Really?” Now she wonders how she looks when looking at Kai? Is it obvious or not obvious? “No, it’s my friend from school. He’s really nice to me and you know, I’m worried if maybe I’m confusing my feelings for something else?”

“I see,” Wonwoo says, taking off his glasses to clean them. 

“Do you?” she teases, earning a laugh from her brother. What a pair of dorks.

“I regret to say I don’t have much experience to help you figure that out since I’m still trying to figure out my own feelings for… you know… Mingyu.” He keeps his glasses off despite his sister’s face is now just a pale blob, he won’t be able to read her expression and it’s probably a good thing at this moment. “Though I do think there’s a difference when it comes to how we feel about others. It’s hard to differentiate sometimes, but I think it’ll be loud and clear once you start to fall in love. Jihoon once vaguely told me I’ll know when it happens… whatever that means. Maybe it was the caffeine and sugar talking.” He can hear JiWoo laughing at his comment and he likes how this doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. 

“Perhaps,” she chuckles. “Do you think I’m too young to fall in love?” 

“I’d rather you waited until you’re thirty,” he deadpans, a pout slowly forming. The thought of his sister growing up suddenly makes him feel like everything is spinning out of control. Time is just slipping through the cracks of his fingers and that doesn’t sit well with him - not at all. Sometimes he wishes he could stop it, stop her from growing up, keeping her small and young forever.  _ Keep her under my protection.  _ As much as he misses their youth, he understands that can’t happen as they get older and busier with life. People grow up and move on, they live on borrowed time to stay young forever.  _ Let me protect you forever and ever.  _ He’s watching his sister grow up right before his very eyes and a large part of him wishes they can stay together forever. Yet, forever is not a thing when you’re living on borrowed time.  _ But I say it is.  _ Who’s to say he can’t make forever happen?  _ I’ll make sure of it, if it’s the last thing I do.  _

“If I even make it to thirty,” JiWoo snickers, already accepting the world might implode by itself before she becomes old and gray. Or maybe the sun will explode first, time will only tell.

“Don’t say that,” Wonwoo scolds. “But I know I can trust you’ll make all the right decisions. You’ll be eighteen next year after all. You’re honestly growing up too fast. Can you maybe slow down a little? I’m not ready for you to grow up yet…” She can see the various emotions on his face, tears brimming in his eyes. A mix of joy and sadness at the prospect of his baby sister maturing too quickly. 

“Oh my god are you actually going to cry?” JiWoo asks with a nervous laugh.

“No, my eyes are just burning from the dust in the air.” He chuckles, trying to hide his tears. “Where are my eyedrops?” He feels his pockets trying to locate the hard bottle of God’s tears to put in his dry as fuck eyeballs. JiWoo notices the bottle of God’s tears has slipped out behind him and reaches for it (trying hard not to scare the living shit out of her brother). She hands them over and he thanks her before doing his usual routine of applying his God’s tears to his dry as fuck eyes. Did we mention how dry as fuck his eyes are? They’re dry as fuck. 

She feels bad for her brother who suffers from dry eye syndrome and is cursed with poor eyesight while JiWoo sports twenty-twenty vision and no dry as fuck eyes. That is until she’s reminded of her possible pain syndrome when she bangs her elbow on the coffee table by accident and has the wind nearly knocked out of her. It takes a moment until the pain stops, her brother asking if she’s okay. 

“I hit my funny bone,” she whines, causing Wonwoo to laugh. He’s laughing with her, not at her. “Goddamn, why is this table so close to the couch anyways?” She shoves it back a bit with her hand only for her other elbow to crack loudly and she whimpers. 

“Can you sit still and relax before you break something!?” her brother exclaims, making room for his sister so she’s not a danger to herself anymore. To think this girl used to crawl up trees, hang off the metal monkey bars and jump off of the swings when she was a little gremlin. “Anyway, whoever this Kai is, he better not hurt you,” Wonwoo states. He can understand what JiWoo must’ve felt when Mingyu clumsily crashed his way into their lives. He’s never really thought about it until now since JiWoo expressed before that she was philophobic. 

Honestly, he thought he had nothing to worry about when it came to his sister and romance. Plus, she said it herself: relationships make her  _ uncomfortable _ . So he can breathe easy knowing his sister wouldn’t be out and about, messing around with hormonal teenage guys. You hear it all the time, teenagers falling in love and getting pregnant. Man, if JiWoo gets pregnant their father might actually kill him. No, correction, his father won’t just kill Wonwoo - his father will skin him alive and make a skin suit before killing him. 

It  _ is  _ one of those possibilities (getting prematurely pregnant) he has to remember, and it makes sense for him to feel more protective over JiWoo. He can’t let anything bad happen to her, not because he doesn’t want to let his parents down but because she’s all he has here in America. That sense of loneliness suddenly plagues his mind. Will he be seeing less and less of his sister if she and this Kai person start dating? Well, it’s not like they see a lot of each other to begin with but still… Or maybe it won’t be so bad if he has someone of his own to spend time with, like Mingyu. At this point it’s all about balance now. If he can make time for Mingyu, he can make time for JiWoo. And he’s sure she’ll be doing the same. 

“I hope so too, but I doubt it. I hope Mingyu doesn’t hurt you either… or I’ll really be mad.” It’s adorable to see her angry face, the way her nose scrunches up in annoyance, her lips forming into a small pout, eyes narrowing. Wonwoo reaches over to give her a few gentle pats to her head, a feeling of nostalgia washes over him when he does it. Memories of when he used to pet her on the head when she was little floods into his mind like a broken water pipe, filling his mind until there’s no room left to breathe. She’s grown up so much and it’s bittersweet. She used to follow him around the house like a little duckling, eager and excited to learn about the world. He just wonders what happened to that little girl who was so courageous and confident, now cautious and timid? It seems like it’s been this way ever since their grandmother— No. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. 

“When do I get to meet this guy you like?” he says with a bit of a yawn.

“Soon… maybe.” She hands him his glasses from the table. “And definitely not in the way you and Mingyu happened either.” Wonwoo pouts at the reminder before another yawn attacks him. Man, he’s tired as fuck. “You should go back to bed.”

“What about you?” He frowns when he thinks of how lonely she might be if he leaves now. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll just listen to music for a bit and maybe draw... or sleep too.” It’s something she’s been used to but now that things have changed, it’s different to be choosing to be alone when someone is home. “Go rest up for now! Maybe we can play more later?” He simply nods to that with a sleepy smile. With that the two siblings return to their rooms, plopping down on their beds respectively. Wonwoo knocks out instantly in his shared room but it takes some time for JiWoo to figure out what she’ll do over in her room. You can never go wrong with listening to your favorite playlist, so she grabs her headphones, ready to tune out the world for a bit because it sucks.

* * *

Joshua feels as though he’s in a daydream with iron thorns surrounding him, the sharp ends digging into his flesh, causing him to bleed. The vines curl around his arms and legs, holding him down. He turns his head, peering into his covered up mirrors. Ever since the black goo poured out of it, he can’t help but feel like he’s being watched by something or someone. Actually, no, the creature in the mirror has to be a monster from another dimension because there’s honestly no plausible explanation for the mirror breaking from the inside out. It’s almost as if the reflection is trying to break through. 

A disgusting, squishy sound echoes through the empty apartment as the sludge pulsates and bubbles from the mirror. It’s like watching a horror movie where a creature from another parallel world is coming out, determined to kill all humans. Joshua can feel pain and agony emitting from the tar as it continues to drip out. A terrifying monster or demon ready to murder him in cold blood. 

The thorns dig into his muscles, scraping against his bones as a waterfall of black sludge flows from underneath his tarp. His fight-or-flight response is already working overdrive to fight against the potentially harmful substance. But then, he freezes, body stiffening as he watches the corrosive liquid bubble to life, slowly forming a humanoid entity that stands. Goo drips from the entity’s appendages as the thing slowly walks closer to him. He can hear the sound of wood bubbling up and melting away below the thing’s feet.

Fear flows through his blood like his organs depended on it, the only thing in his mind is him screaming to move, get away.  _ Run.  _ But he can’t, not when his limbs are held down by invisible ropes, scarring his skin. It’s like a nightmare becoming a reality. The creature slithers closer, the foul stench of rotting flesh and sewage penetrates Joshua’s senses, making him gag. He’s going to die and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He closes his eyes and waits for the inevitable death to come and take him. But it doesn’t come, at least not in the way he’s hoping for. The creature blows softly against Joshua’s neck, feeling the air corrode away his skin. 

“ _ I always come back, _ ” the thing says in a gravelly voice - as if the monster eats glass shards - before Joshua opens his eyes to see a brightly lit room and daylight streaming into his bedroom. There’s no slime demon in his bedroom nor are there any wounds on him. He’s completely and utterly safe. Or so he thinks. 

As he gets ready for the day, a piercing headache comes through, his eyes flashing from yellow to grey as two halves of one human battles for dominance. Joshua can feel something similar to a ring of fire tearing through his skull as his body breaks down. It’s like Heaven and Hell are battling for dominance and neither side is winning or losing and his body is merely just a vessel for this battle. He reaches up, determined to grab a bottle of pills his doctor prescribed for him ever since he started getting these migraines. 

But he doesn’t make it in time, his fingers just brushing against the pill bottle, too weak to grip onto it. Little white pills clatter against the tiles, a darkness overpowering him as he collapses to the bathroom floor. Eyes wide open as his left eye turns grey and the right turns yellow. 

* * *

Once JiWoo’s finished listening to her playlist of her dark creepy songs, it’s time to find a new activity to occupy herself. Though, she doesn’t feel particularly in the mood to go bother her friends, let alone does she want to third wheel if they have plans with each other. It makes her think about when she gets a partner herself, if she’ll have the energy to make plans all the time like her friends?  _ It sounds exhausting!  _ Perhaps this is why JiWoo prefers to be a homebody and keeps her distance for the most part. As much as she might complain here and there about being alone, for the most part she does like being alone. Seungkwan likes to claim JiWoo is a cat underneath her human skin (no wonder she gets along with Miss Ava so well). While the majority of felines are considered assholes and distant, sometimes they enjoy a little attention, though they can be picky of who they get it from. You’re considered special if JiWoo Jeon wants your attention. 

And here we see a prime example of JiWoo ignoring her phone when it rings with Seungkwan’s custom ringtone of Beyoncé “ _ all the single ladies, all the single ladies _ ” but when it begins to ring with Bruno Mars “ _ when I see your face, the whole world stops and stares for a while, cause girl you’re amazing just the way you are _ ” she jumps out of bed and leaps across the room to answer Kai Huening’s call with no hesitation. He sounds shocked when she manages to answer it within the second ring and she cringes, forgetting her three ring rule she has with her brother. 

“Are you busy?” Kai asks on the other line.

“No, not at all? What’s up?” she says with a sheepish smile, as if he could see her through the damn phone. She facepalms at herself. Kai briefly informs her about Jeonghan tasking him with the big responsibility of looking after Chan for the entire weekend. He admits he hasn’t really had a lot of experience with looking after children for longer than a few hours and asks for her assistance. Since it’s Chan, she quickly agrees without a second thought. He sounds relieved and it makes her giggle, she catches herself twirling one of her long locks around her left index finger like some giddy high school girl head over heels for the cute guy from school (to be fair, she is indeed a giddy girl in high school who thinks she might be head over heels for her cute classmate from school).  _ What the fuck is wrong with me!? Gross!  _

He ends the call by asking her to come over when she’s ready. She tells him she’ll be there as soon as possible with a bright and cheery voice. She curses at herself for being weird, questioning why she’s acting like this all of a sudden.  _ Sure, I think I like him but do I have to be this embarrassing about it? _ Isn’t she supposed to be philophobic and disgusted by romance? How did it all change so quickly? Perhaps, could it be the pressure of society weighing heavily on her conscience? That everyone must fall in love and contribute to the cycle of life by procreating with your soulmate.  _ Gross.  _ She decides to ignore it before it makes her physically ill and gets dressed, throwing on some quick eyeliner and mascara to complete her look. She double checks she has her wallet and her keys this time before running into her brother in the hallway. 

He looks like a sleepless zombie and she can’t help but laugh in amusement. He looks at her, squinting until she turns the hall light on. “Are you going out?” he asks with disappointment. 

“Yeah, uh, Kai called and asked for me to come over for something. I might be out all day but I’ll be careful, okay?” She can see the conflicted look on his face and isn’t sure if she should laugh out of amusement or worry that he might not let her go out in the end. He’s still her guardian after all and makes the final call. “I mean… may I go hang out with him?” 

“Yes,” he says a moment later but it sounds forced. “Just be careful.”

“Thanks! I’ll text you throughout the day.” JiWoo flashes him a warm smile. She can see the look of relief on his face. She knows she can’t leave it all up to his new therapist to help him cope, she still needs to make the effort too. Texting she can do, it’s less stressful on her than panicked phone calls. She gives him a quick wave, calling out a goodbye and then she’s off to the elevator, leaving her brother standing in the hallway by his lonesome. He mourns the fact his sister stopped giving him hugs like she used to when they were younger. He can’t pinpoint when it stopped, memories started to blur as time would pass, their bond as siblings slowly fading away.

Or maybe he’s too sleep deprived to think about this rationally; perhaps it’s just a phase, she’s still a teenager after all. When she gets older, she’ll come back around, that’s what he’s hoping for at least.  _ Or she’ll leave and forget about me.  _ That intrusive thought come back with a vengeance, tormenting him with the idea that this is the start of his sister slowly, but surely, abandoning him. It makes his chest ache just thinking about it. How could she, after all that he’s done for her? Is this what happens when he’s not around to filter out the bad influencers in her life?  _ Is this Kai’s doing? _ A dull ache in his head sends him back to his room.  _ I need to sleep it off. _

After JiWoo enters and punches the eighth floor button, her mind starts to wonder what it’ll be like spending the entire day with Kai. So far they’ve seen each other at school (where he tutors her the most), but their last session (over the weekend if she recalls correctly) was held at his place. (Curse the last minute cramming for a test she totally bombed.) For months, she happens to be aware of the fact that they lived within the same building - having seen him in the lobby a few times, but never really knowing which floor he lived on (considering JiWoo Jeon is a socially awkward bean who can barely say ‘hi’ to people she somewhat knows. It took her  _ years  _ to even call out to Seungkwan whenever she saw him in the hallway at school.) But another thought enters her mind: once they know which apartment they live in, will they hang out more? The mere thought has her stomach doing that weird roller coaster thing again.  _ Or is this what they call... butterflies? _

She hopes that they will, and that they don’t always have to study math outside of school. She’d rather do something less stressful, something more fun like maybe eating out or hitting the arcade again. It reminds her of that one time when they went to Moonwalker Arcade together with Yeonjun. It’s a bittersweet memory given the circumstances that were going on at the time, not to mention that weird encounter from that one barista from Carat Cafe. A sudden chill runs up her spine when recalling the event. Something didn’t feel right when he pushed her out of the way. The burning and scalding hot feeling lingering on her shoulder where his hand touched, almost as if she was burnt again by peppermint tea back at the cafe— 

The elevator dings, snapping her back into reality and she leaps out of the elevator before it can close on her. She shakes those uncomfortable feelings off and approaches Kai’s apartment door. She knocks three times and patiently waits for someone to answer the door. When Yeonjun answers it, she scowls.

“Rude! What’s with that greeting? Aren’t you happy to see me?” he snickers while stepping aside so she can enter. She rolls her eyes and steps in to see more familiar faces in the room. All of Kai’s friends are over and she suddenly feels like she missed something.  _ I thought he asked for my help?  _ That feeling of being special starts to vanish as she thinks Kai only called her over as backup. But she doesn’t want to be quick with assumptions. “Is that why you were so hellbent on kicking us out just now!?” Yeonjun teases Kai from the doorway. 

“You could have just said she was coming over, we would have been gone ten minutes ago!” Soobin adds, Beomgyu joins in with a taunting giggle, earning a not so friendly glare from Kai. He does not appreciate this in the slightest. 

“Enough teasing him, let’s just get going,” Taehyun says, saving the day by herding the other three out the front door. “Just don’t forget to use—” Taehyun doesn’t get to finish his sentence when they see JiWoo kick the door shut behind her, not sparing them a single glance. 

“I’m sorry!” Kai blurts out, face red from utter embarrassment. Why must his friends say such inappropriate things? He thought he could trust Taehyun, what the hell? Top 10 Anime Betrayals, anyone? But the piercing sound of Chan crying in the other room startles the both of them. JiWoo drops her shoulder bag, kicks off her shoes and follows Kai to his room where the little boy is sitting up, wiping his eyes with the back of his small hands as Miss Ava tries to comfort him by rubbing against him. 

“ **_Who slammed the door!?_ ** ” is the first thing JiWoo hears when entering Kai’s room. She doesn’t have the time to register what’s really going on at first and immediately apologizes to the fluffy white Persian glaring at them. Guilt washes over JiWoo knowing she’s the reason Chan was awakened so rudely.  _ I’m no better when it comes to looking after children either…  _

Kai begins to give Chan a few of his plushies to hold onto, hoping one of them would help the tears stop but it seems like none of them make the cut, no matter how cute they are. JiWoo is amazed at the size of the collection, it makes her collection of four look pitiful. She had no idea Kai was so into plushies, she supposes giving him the penguin plushie from the arcade was a good move in the end. Just when they think there’s no other solution, Kai starts to play a familiar song on his phone, catching JiWoo’s attention. “You listen to Ren?” she blurts out once Chan is calm enough to stop crying. 

“Yeah? You know him?” Kai smiles, eager to hear her answer. She thinks it’s cute the way his expression lights up when she nods in reply. “He’s my favorite solo artist!” He gushes and begins to go on a long monologue about his favorite songs and collaborations that include the mentioned idol. She finds it endearing how he opens up to her, exposing himself like he has no fear of judgment. She wonders how that feels? To be so open like that? It’s like the words fall off his tongue so effortlessly, no hesitation, just confidence. She catches herself staring at his moving lips, it’s almost hypnotic. He sounds so carefree, like nothing is holding him back. His voice is deep and soothing, it calms her anxious mind and she feels like she could listen to him for hours on end. After a few minutes she starts to get sleepy.

“JiWoo? Are you okay?” She flinches when she sees his hand wave in front of her face, snapping her out of her trance. “Sorry, did I bore you?” he asks with a sheepish smile. 

“No, no! Not at all,” she blurts out, noting Chan is occupied with a game on Kai’s phone while Miss Ava purrs in his lap, too distracted to notice the moment going on between the two teenagers. “I just really like hearing you talk,” she says before slapping a hand over her mouth, looking like she didn’t mean to say that out loud. “I mean, I like you—r voice!” Kai looks confused, his mouth opening to reply but a cute chuckle comes out instead. 

“ **_Looks like someone’s smitten with the handsome babysitter._ ** ” Miss Ava’s teasing voice causes JiWoo to snap, telling her to shut up. 

“I didn’t say anything?” Little Chan looks up, frowning at the harsh scolding from JiWoo. 

“Oh my god, no Channie! I wasn’t talking to you!” JiWoo exclaims, reaching out to smooth back his messy bed hair. 

“Then who were you talking to?” Kai asks, confused as ever. 

“Miss Ava,” she says truthfully. “I can see it on her face, she’s judging me…” She narrows her eyes at the feline who’s laughing at her now. “Anyways, did you guys eat breakfast already?” Kai nods, causing her to regret not eating before coming over. She can wait until lunch. “Then what’s on today’s agenda?” The two teens look at Chan, waiting for his answer. Today is Chan’s day, what he demands, he gets. It’s the least JiWoo can do after being so rude to him earlier (but Chan quickly forgave her since he didn’t realize that she was being rude). So little Chan thinks about it, deciding he should take advantage of this generous offer in the end. It’s not every day he gets to pick what to do, so this is really exciting for him. 

* * *

It’s just JiWoo’s luck that Chan already made plans to play at the community playground in Sector A-4 this afternoon. Not only that, he says his new friend by the name of Gigi will be there, too.  _ Who the hell is Gigi?  _ She wondered until the moment they were leaving Kai’s apartment, they bumped into Taehyun who returned claiming he forgot his phone charger. 

According to Taehyun, Gigi is the younger sister of the Hot Baker from Aju Nice Bakery. Mingyu’s baby sister.  _ Of fucking course!  _ After the drama that happened between her friends and brother, she hasn’t had the guts to really face Mingyu after that (avoiding the bakery at the cost of depriving her macaron addiction). She’s sure Wonwoo has spoken to him about it but still… She can’t help but feel guilty. She feels like she owes him an apology but isn’t sure how she’s going to do that. 

She doesn’t know a single thing about the guy (other than the fact he’s fucking hot), not a clue about what he likes or dislikes. What he can and can’t eat. If he’s even allergic to flowers, let alone is it even appropriate for her to give him flowers? And then what if he’s allergic to silk or something weird like that?  _ I’m turning into my brother.  _ She’s overthinking, so much that halfway to their destination, Kai has to hold her hand so she doesn’t walk into a street sign or into oncoming traffic. 

The gentle and warm touch of his hand is enough to ground her back into reality once again. She thinks back on that night in Seungcheol’s car, when she thought to test out what it’d feel like to hold someone’s hand. Whether or not there’s a difference among others.  _ Of course there would be, you dumb bitch.  _ Holding Vernon’s hand is cold, boney and painful for her sensitive hands. Holding Seungkwan’s hand is hot and squishy.  _ It sounds so gross.  _ But his grip is unnecessarily strong that it leaves her feeling like he fractured her hand. Yeonjun’s, on the other hand (get it; she’s spent way too much time with her brother this morning), felt like touching sandpaper (maybe that’s an exaggeration but she’s sticking with the analogy), but Kai’s… is just right.  _ Who the fuck am I? Goldie Locks?  _

“Uh,” she speaks up, tugging at his hand. Well almost perfect. 

“What’s wrong?” He looks down as they’re waiting to cross the crosswalk. He’s holding Miss Ava’s blinged out cat carrier in his right hand, JiWoo’s hand in his left. Chan stands on the other side of the cat carrier, holding on as if helping carry the royal feline to and fro. (Which he isn’t really, but it’s still cute to see a tiny kid think he’s helping). 

JiWoo stutters on her words, trying to come up with a decent explanation as to why she suddenly tugged her hand away, when Miss Ava lets out a loud meow from her carrier. Chan peers down and then blinks, looking back up. “Are you two getting together?” he asks innocently, still not fully aware of what the words ‘getting together’ even means. Both teens fumble over their words while Chan (now ignoring them thanks to his short attention span) tugs gently on Mis Ava’s carrier heading towards the playground. The two glance at each other awkwardly before following the child without another word about it. 

At the park, the smell of autumn really hits JiWoo hard as falling leaves coat the entire area, happily crunching underneath her boots. That’s when it dawns upon her that she has no idea what this little girl looks like and from the sheer amount of people just milling the park today (seriously, why did everyone decide that today was the day to go out) she can make out roughly thirty little girls just running around. 

“Channie,” she says, stopping the boy in his tracks. “What does your friend look like?” 

He blinks for a moment, thinking of how to describe his friend. “She looks like you, big sister. But smaller.” He flashes her an innocent smile. “All dark and scary.” 

“Is that good or bad?” She raises a brow, teasing him when he looks like he’s not sure how to respond. Kai attempts to keep the peace when a small blur of darkness comes crashing into his legs, causing him to topple over onto the grass. Chan manages to grab Miss Ava’s cat carrier before his queen falls to the ground. 

“Gigi!” Mingyu’s voice calls from afar as the massive human shaped puppy comes barreling from the grass as he scoops his younger sister off Kai. “Sorry! I didn’t think she’d do that.” 

“But brother Mingyu,” Gigi says, reaching outwards towards Kai’s fallen body as JiWoo attempts to help him up. “That is my boyfriend.” 

“Wait, what!?” Mingyu looks scandalized as he jerks his head to stare at Kai then at his sister then back at Kai. “Gigi no! You’re too young for a boyfriend!”

Gigi stares at him. “Why? Channie is my husband.” Mingyu places his sister down to properly faint. Just as he lands on the soft grass, his roommate (the guy with the black mullet) and a paint streak slashed across his face catches up. He takes a look at Mingyu and steps over the fallen tree, completely unphased by his dramatics. 

“JiWoo,” he says softly. “Why are you here? You said you never leave your room.” 

“Minghao?” JiWoo asks, after getting Kai up to his feet. “Why are you here?” 

Minghao stares, looking like he doesn’t want to explain why he’s covered in paint. “I have… some service to fulfill.” 

“Are you a drug dealer?” Kai blurts out, eyes widening in shock as he dramatically covers his mouth. “JiWoo you know a drug dealer!?” 

“What? No!” Minghao holds up his hands in defense. “I may or may not have accidentally knocked someone off their bike with a giant roll of bubble wrap. And the police force happens to hate my guts so that’s why I have community and parole services to fulfill.” He points to a small clearing nearby where a bunch of elderlies and middle aged women have all gathered around a small circle, just painting. JiWoo peeks over, wondering what that’s all about when Minghao offers his art class/community service to them to participate in. As they say, the more the merrier, right?

“I wanna try painting!” Chan says, letting Miss Ava out of her cat carrier. The Persian stretches like the diva she is, her tail flickering as her nose twitches while Kai panics about her running off and getting lost (to which JiWoo tells him to relax, giggling at his reaction). “I dunno how to paint though.” 

“That’s what art classes are for!” Kai says, offering his hand out for JiWoo to take, only to have Gigi take it, a small smile on the little girl’s face. (She then shoots JiWoo a smug look, as if she just stole JiWoo’s man). The teenage girl can only sigh as the crew heads over to Minghao’s art class (Mingyu too after Minghao kicks him a couple of times) where he sets up three more easels for the three to paint on. He gives a quick run-down of the different materials sitting out (a lecture that no one understands except JiWoo as she’s an art nerd at heart) before letting them go wild. 

Chan chucks his canvas onto the ground (much to the sadness of Minghao and JiWoo) and asks Miss Ava to help. She picks out a couple of colours, and after some help in pouring it on a painter’s palette, the pair uses their hands (and paws) to paint. 

“Whatever you do, don’t lick your paws when you’re finished, Miss Ava,” JiWoo warns, watching the two have at it. 

“ **_Do I look dumb to you? I wasn’t born yesterday!_ ** ” Miss Ava chitters at her before raising a paw to lick clean, her natural instincts are permanently programmed into her brain to do it literally every day. Luckily Chan stops her before making that  _ dumb _ mistake. “ **_Oh…_ ** ”

JiWoo simply laughs it off and tries to focus on what she wants to paint. She hasn’t played with watercolours in a while and isn’t so confident painting in front of others. But she’s positive this is a non judgmental zone, Minghao seems the type to make sure of that. She decides on a monochromatic color scheme and picks the shade black to work with. What can go wrong with black other than fucking it up entirely, but the point is to have fun. She can’t help but peek at those around her painting, which includes Mingyu painting some cute looking pastel macarons. Damn, she’s hungry now.

It reminds her of how she used to drop by Aju Nice Bakery often to buy some for Seungkwan (like some servant or something, perhaps he and Jihoon are on to something there). Mingyu catches her when she stares for too long and asks if she thinks it’s any good. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s really good!” she stutters out. “They look pretty real, it’s making me hungry,” she adds with a sheepish smile. She’s still yet to eat anything since seven am this morning. But that doesn’t compare to days where she didn’t eat at all thanks to the negative cycle of not being hungry, too nauseous to be hungry, and not having the energy to eat. She’s somehow survived this long, she can hold out for another few hours.

“Why don’t you and your friend come over for lunch after this?” He flashes her a kind smile and it stuns her.  _ Why isn’t he angry with me?  _ Shouldn’t he be a little bothered by the way she acted towards him that day? Why is he being so nice to her?  _ Or is it that I’m still angry at myself?  _ She doesn’t reply, too occupied with her negative mind but Mingyu notices and decides to clear the air. “Uh, if you’re worried about what happened that day at dinner, it’s fine. I understand. Your brother talked to me about it recently, I told him that it’s okay. I wasn’t upset at all, really!” 

“Are you sure?” Mingyu is reminded of Wonwoo right then and there by the way she looks at him, anxious and apologetic. It took several verbal confirmations that Mingyu was indeed not angry or upset with JiWoo. 

“I get it, honestly! I’d react the same way if it were my sister. I’m just a giant klutz sometimes, (‘All the time’ they hear in the background, courtesy of Minghao) I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I’m sorry!” JiWoo blurts out, head dropping. It’s like she can’t even look him in the eyes there’s so much guilt in her heart. “If you… by any chance have feelings for my brother, I promise I won’t get in the way. I won’t protest if it’s what makes my brother happy. I’m just scared of him getting hurt, that’s all. I know maybe a lot of people feel that way about their family but…”

“It’s okay to be scared, JiWoo,” Mingyu reaches out to give her a gentle pat on her shoulder. “We’re all scared of something, right? I heard it’s only you and your brother who came to America and your parents stayed behind. I’m sure it’s difficult when all you have is each other.” He goes on to tell the inspirational story of making the bold decision to leave his home back in Italy to pursue a career as a pastry chef in America. It sounds a lot like Wonwoo’s ambitions the more JiWoo hears about it. They both just want to do amazing things not only for themselves but for those they love. The only difference between the two is Mingyu made the decision to do it all by himself and she admires that. She thinks it’s cute how Gigi missed her brother so much that she also made a bold decision to pursue schooling in another country, and JiWoo’s sure if things had been the same on Wonwoo’s part, she would have found a way back to her brother too. 

The more the two get to talking, the closer they start to feel. The heavy feeling in JiWoo’s chest starts to lighten up, she can breathe easier now knowing how Mingyu truly feels. It’s a relief. There was no way she would be able to handle her brother’s potential boyfriend hating her guts. But it amuses her when she thinks there’s no way someone like Mingyu could hold a grudge against someone. He’s too kind for that. The way he gets excited when talking reminds her of the puppies back at AL-1’s Animal Trauma Rescue Center in Sector A-6. Oh, how they love to drain her energy. The memory makes her chuckle. She wonders how Wonwoo manages around him. Speaking of animals...

“Do you really like cats or something?” Mingyu asks when he sees JiWoo’s painting coming along. He’s amazed by how a bunch of brush strokes could transform into something so detailed. An odd-eye black cat that looks like it’s made up of dark smoke. The left eye is green while the right eye is blue. He thinks it’s interesting given he hasn’t seen anything like it before - at least not a completely dark furred cat. 

“I don’t like them, I love them,” she says with a wide grin. “Lately, a cat just like this keeps appearing in my dreams. I’m not sure what it really means but…” She trails off, suddenly worried. “It finds me in the darkness every time.” Neither of them know what to make of that. 

That one statement sends Mingyu into a worry, thinking that maybe JiWoo might suffer similar mental health issues like Seokmin does. However, he knows better than to assume anything, _ but it’s always those who seem to appear fine that struggle the most _ . Perhaps he’s reading too much into this, but he gets this intuition that both Jeon siblings might have been through some type of trauma that now has them protect themselves with a diamond barrier. Forcing them to curl within themselves, live in their heads and place blame upon themselves the  _ second  _ something goes wrong. And maybe most people (or maybe it’s the people Mingyu meets) are like that, but there’s only so much a person can take before losing their minds and hitting that breaking point. It’s times like these, Mingyu doesn’t know what to say or do to make someone feel better. 

_ What if I say the wrong thing?  _

“What is your favourite macaron flavour at the bakery?” he asks, plowing through the previous topic.  _ My head hurts. I don’t like the dark.  _

“I like green tea,” she answers, picking up her brush once again. “I’d like to try more, but I’m worried if I don’t like them, it’d be a waste of money.” She frowns at the thought of wasting money on something she might not like. That might be why she normally doesn’t go out of her comfort zone on anything. 

“We give out free samples! There’s no need to commit to buying something you might not like,” he explains, his customer service voice slipping out. He notices the awkward smile she gives, as if telling him she already knew that. It makes Mingyu think back on the way Wonwoo fumbled over his words when trying to ask about the specials once, perhaps it’s not easy for JiWoo to simply ask for a sample in the end. “Uh, how about I prepare you a sample box next time you drop by?” The small smile she offers is worth a million macarons.   
He watches her try to look up at him but immediately turns away and curses at the sun for blinding her for no goddamn reason. Mingyu frowns and takes a look himself. The skies are blank and empty, they’re just lucky autumn is fast approaching or this outdoor painting class wouldn’t be a thing and Minghao would have to think of something else. He looks up at the sun, his baby sister’s worst enemy and possibly Wonwoo’s baby sister’s worst enemy, too. Thankfully, they came prepared with the largest black umbrella they could find in their apartment to keep their dark princess Gigi from baking in the sun like a potato, a cute little goth potato (if the saying “you are what you eat” says anything about her, she eats too many potatoes [Mainly potato chips]).

The sun doesn’t blind him, it doesn’t force him to squint and he doesn’t sneeze either (lucky bastard). His irises begin to glow a warm green colour as clouds begin to form and block out the sun. It suddenly feels like a solar eclipse with the loss of light. Everyone looks up to the sky just as lightning flashes above with a clap of thunder, startling them half to death. Rain begins to pour down on them like Niagara Falls, causing them to scramble and flee for shelter. Everyone’s soaked to the bone in a matter of seconds. JiWoo bravely tries to save the art supplies and canvases while Kai saves Miss Ava and Chan. 

“You idiot!” Minghao shouts over the pouring rain. “You just ruined my art class!”

“I didn’t mean to make it rain!” Mingyu shouts back and the pair engages in an argument that could rival an old married couple. Minghao’s eyes glow bright red in rage as various paints begin to float up in the air and out of JiWoo’s hold, scaring the teenagers and the kids a bit (as if they’ve seen worse. [Maybe they have?]). That’s when the first item is thrown (well mentally because no one sees Minghao grabbing the paints and hurling them himself). Mingyu dodges out of the way and within seconds another Mingyu appears (“Oh no,” Gigi says, cuddling up to Kai in the safety of his arms. All while staring smugly at JiWoo. That brat).

Red paint splatters against the fake Mingyu, the can smacking him in the head and causing the clone to disintegrate into dust. Despite the growing concern over the thunderstorm above, Minghao doesn’t seem to let up, continuing to mentally hurl paint cans at his roommate while Mingyu continues to conjure up various clones of himself to block every attack. The kids watch in amusement as Chan holds onto Miss Ava, clapping her paint tinted paws together whenever something exciting happens, they’re shielded by the large black umbrella Gigi was using to protect herself from the unforgiving sun. 

“So,” Kai says, to break the silence. “They’re contractors, aren’t they?” 

“Well, unless we’re high off the fumes of the watercolours, meaning we’re not since they’re nontoxic, I think it’s safe to assume so,” JiWoo retorts, glad they at least have an umbrella to keep them dry (Well it’s a little too late for that now isn’t it?). Kai makes a noise of acknowledgement, like it’s just a normal Saturday standing in the rain with his crush, Miss Ava, his neighbor’s nephew and his living gothic lolita doll. This is normal. Totally normal as the pair continue to fight, getting cheered on by Gigi, Chan and Miss Ava. Meanwhile, JiWoo can feel her hands going numb from the cold and decides to slip her hand into Kai’s, liking how warm it feels compared to her drenched sweater paw. There’s a part of her that worries he might let go, telling her she crossed a line by doing so. It’s not like she’d like it if someone did that to her out of the blue, but fortunately, Kai doesn’t make a fuss about it which she appreciates and simply holds onto her hand as they watch the two roommates attempt to fight to the death. 

The two adults go back and forth for a while, making the youngins wonder when it will ever end. At one point, JiWoo and Kai contemplate making bets on who will win this ridiculous battle, but neither know what to put on the line. What do they even want from the other? Maybe this would be the time to try and smoothly ask JiWoo out on a date, but that’s not how he wants it to go. He’d probably get clowned by his friends if he did that. JiWoo, on the other hand, is thinking about ditching her tutoring session one time in the future, but saying it out loud will be so dumb. Let alone, a bad influence on the two children standing in front of them. And the last thing they want to do is bet money and influence a gambling addiction little Chan might catch onto. (Chan, unlike Gigi, is easily influenced by others around him and no one knows why.)

“I think Mingyu will win,” JiWoo mutters, teeth chattering and nearly biting her tongue. She rubs her arms in an effort to warm up from the pouring rain. 

“I’m thinking Minghao,” Kai replies, analyzing the two. While Mingyu has numbers, Minghao has wits - it’s truely a battle between brawn and brains. 

“Why Minghao? He’s obviously outnumbered by Mingyu’s clones,” JiWoo points out.

“True, but—” The teens are cut off when Mingyu slips on wet grass, hitting his head against the ground, knocking himself out cold. “He got sloppy,” Kai finishes with a pitiful chuckle as JiWoo facepalms with her free hand. ( _ Darn it all Mingyu _ , she silently shouts,  _ I was rooting for you! _ ) The skies clear up, the clouds fading away as the idiot baker from Aju Nice lays there unconscious. A soaked and annoyed Minghao walks over to Mingyu’s unconscious body, grabs a marker from his back pocket and begins doodling all over his roommate’s face. 

“This is what you get for getting me into legal trouble for the eighth time  _ and  _ ruining my art class,” Minghao deadpans, haphazardly carrying the giant’s sleeping body. He looks back at the teenagers and jerks his head as a beckon to follow him. “I’ll explain when we get home.” The teenagers nod, following him out of the park with Miss Ava and the two children, towards Together apartments in the slums. At least now, JiWoo is going to get some goddamn food. She’s fucking famished as hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... the song lyrics in this chapter are pretty much made up.
> 
> Yes I placed a Five Nights At Freddy's reference into the fic. Fight me


	13. Broken and Scarred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Breatheless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xA84qKxqEd8) by Better than Erza
> 
> Hello, welcome to a double update! Life is hectic so today everyone gets 2 chapters! Hurrah!
> 
> Some trigger warnings before we get started:   
> \- There's a rather brutal death of a child in the chapter but it's important to the plot (third paragraph)  
> \- At one point someone or something consumes an eyeball (fifth paragraph)  
> \- Mental health; Wonwoo in the fic has OCD - while I, myself (Lithium), do have mild OCD it isn't to the extent of Wonwoo's. Along with some acute PTSD/trauma  
> \- If you're not okay with any of these scenes, let me know and I can write a summary of the chapter for you

There is a tranquil silence just hovering in the air, the green lush of the grass below just underneath Joshua’s skin. His eyes flutter open just a bit, staring up at the blue above. The sky is a crisp, light blue with the bright, white sun fluttering down through the gaps in the trees. Around him, tall, sturdy oak trees reach up towards the ceiling. Joshua sits up, head in unexplainable agony - the closest thing he can think of that’s somewhat close to how he feels is as if his skin is being peeled off while he’s awake and then someone dug in little bits of sharp rocks into his exposed flesh. But it’s from the inside out, where you can’t get at it. 

The exposed roots of the trees curl around the grassy embankment, creating a circle or a cage around Joshua’s sanctuary. But what’s scary about the situation is how eerily  _ quiet  _ the forest is. No birds chirping, no bugs buzzing, nothing. Just the deafening silence that lingers all around. Joshua should be scared, yet he isn’t. He crawls upwards, pushing his exhausted body towards the edge of the root cage, his hand reaching outwards. 

Suddenly, it feels like he’s been burned. He yanks his hand back - an invisible barrier pulsating from that one touch. Like a stone dropping into still water - the ripples from his touch growing larger by the second. What is going on? Why is he here?

“ _ It’s for your own protection _ ,” a voice from above says, and for a moment, Joshua wonders if God is talking to him. 

“Who are you?” Joshua asks, turning around. There’s nothing there, thus further proving his belief that God is talking to him. “Why do I need to be protected?” The leaves above part and the sun’s rays glitter down, a spotlight on the grass. For a second, he expects an angel to flutter down - pale and translucent. But instead, he sees himself in the reflection of the sun, the same heart-shaped face, large cat eyes, and a small defined Cupid’s bow. 

However, the other Joshua looks like a stranger to the original. Lacking the auburn coloured hair and deep hazel eyes, instead sporting white hair that falls just above those sharp yellow eyes. Perhaps it is an angel from above, just missing his wings. Joshua steps closer to his other self, hand reaching out to see if the man is real or just a reflection. 

“ _ You don’t need to know who I am _ ,” the other Joshua says (Joshua is going to call him Angel Joshua). “ _ Just don’t step out of the barrier _ .” 

“Why?” 

“ _ You’ll let the Devil in _ .” Joshua looks back at the roots, watching the barrier ripple. He blinks a bit, staring at where he touched earlier, seeing a small rip in the transparent material. 

“How do you let the Devil in?” 

Angel Joshua looks grim; his eyes are flickering from the rip to the human. “ _ You let him in when you give up the losing battle _ .” 

* * *

OCD or Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, as the DSM calls it, has it defined as: ‘characterized by the presence of obsessions and/or compulsions.’ Obsessions, according to the definition, are ‘recurrent and persistent thoughts, urges, or images that are experienced as intrusive and unwanted.’ Compulsions are defined as ‘repetitive behaviours or mental acts that an individual feels driven to perform in response to an obsession or according to rules that must be applied rigidly.’ The second Wonwoo heard this diagnosis; he knew his life was over, or whatever he thought was normal for him to do is now over. It’s now weird, odd, disturbing for the people around him, especially for his younger sister. When he was younger, he always wondered if there was a way to cure it, but as he’s gotten older, it stops being the case of wanting to ‘cure’ his mental illness. Rather, it becomes figuring out ways to handle it enough that he isn’t overwhelmed with the thoughts that seem to pop up whenever they feel like it. 

Sometimes, Wonwoo doesn’t get a good night’s sleep because of those thoughts coming at him with malice.  _ What would happen if you died in your sleep?  _ He has everything positioned away from the heating vents in every room of the apartment, inspecting them every night before bed and every morning before he leaves for school just in case. He compulsively checks the carbon monoxide alarm and fire alarm to make sure they’re still working (which may have led to some grumpy roommates, but it’s better to be safe than sorry). He ensures his blanket does not reach his neck in case it somehow tangles around his windpipe and chokes him to death. Wonwoo makes sure not to sleep on his stomach because the chances of suffocating from his pillow are far too high (it has an alarming frequency that Wonwoo’s overactive brain likes to use against him). 

_ What happens if JiWoo died in her sleep? _ This thought scares him even more, especially when he begins imaging it all in vivid detail. Thus making him check in on her and waking her up every so often to make sure she’s alive (which makes her incredibly grumpy in the mornings but Wonwoo can’t help it). No amount of therapy he got back in Korea could help him handle this kind of disorder, and nothing prepared him enough for this to happen. He didn’t expect it to manifest into something unbearable to the point that he feels trapped in his own mind. 

And it hurts, even more so when JiWoo (during her antisocial days) snapped at him, screaming, “ _ Why can’t you be normal for once!? I’m not like grandma! I won’t die so damn easily! Leave me alone! _ ” He can still hear those words echoing in the back of his mind - fueling his overactive imagination once again. His grandmother always told him he loved living in his head, silent and observant, Wonwoo is the kind of person to have lengthy conversations… with himself in his mind. It’s odd, sure, but it shouldn’t be abnormal. Hell, children have imaginary friends, so why couldn’t he?

But then, the line of imagination and reality begins to blur, and these fucking thoughts started coming in with vivid detail and startling accuracy. The first thought, if one could call it that, came days before their grandmother suddenly passed away. A couple of days leading up to her death, his mind decided to horrify him with vivid images of his grandmother’s body lying at the bottom of the stairs, an oxygen tube laying sprawled next to her and a loose piece of rock from the steps. 

That’s when he biked from his home to his grandmother’s house out in the countryside and obsessively checked every piece of rock on the stairs to make sure none were loose. His grandmother may not have understood it, hell neither did his parents, but he felt like it was the right thing to do. Because after checking, those thoughts would go away, he wouldn’t have them for the next two hours until they returned with a vengeance. Each one was taking away all concentration he had at school. 

But it’d go away whenever he checked up on his grandmother, much to the ridicule of his peers. None of them ever knew what it was like to feel so helpless, tortured by your own thoughts that you had to go and do something to stop them. It’s a brutal cycle that Wonwoo can’t seem to break free from. And, to make matters worse, his grandmother then passes away precisely like how he envisioned it. So, forgive him for feeling incredibly paranoid by his thoughts. 

Which now brings him back to his current predicament - where he’s wrapping all the kitchen knives in aluminium foil to calm the thoughts of unintentionally murdering everyone in the apartment, his nightmare from before only makes it that much more difficult not to think about. He hopes Junhui doesn’t mind, but honestly, the elder isn’t home enough to use these knives anyways, so Wonwoo is doing him a favour. As he grabs another knife, Soonyoung saunters into the room - far too fake cheery for Wonwoo’s liking. Something’s up, and he’s determined to find out what. 

“Why are you so happy?” Wonwoo asks, his mind swirling with reasons as to why Soonyoung might be so. Maybe he just won the lottery. Or perhaps he got a promotion at his job (which Wonwoo isn’t sure how that would work but a man can hope). Or maybe, Soonyoung just kidnapped a kitten and hid it in his bedroom, but the owner of the kitten is desperately looking for his missing pet but can’t find it, and now, Wonwoo is an accessory to a pet-napping. 

“Huh?” Soonyoung says, tilting his head. “I’m always happy. Why?” 

“You seem extra happy today.”

Soonyoung grins. “Is it a crime?” 

“No,” Wonwoo replies, still wrapping up the knives. “I mean, it is if you kidnapped a kitten, and now I’m an accessory to a pet-napping.” Soonyoung simply stares, utterly unsure of what to say or do in response. Sure, Wonwoo has always been a bit of an oddball, but he never expected the younger to… do whatever he’s doing or spewing out things you’d find on a conspiracy Reddit board. He takes it that therapy with Minhyun is still a work in progress. It might be a while before they see some serious changes.

“I’m gonna go escort Seokmin to the doctor’s…” Soonyoung says slowly, grabbing his car keys. “Do you need anything while I’m out?” 

“Maybe more aluminium foil,” Wonwoo replies, folding down the last part of the foil over the knife. “So, you’re just going out?” The thoughts of Seokmin not being real for some reason, remains pervasive. A delusion of the highest degree in order to keep him from accepting the truth. It isn’t like Soonyoung could make a person up for two years - hell no. In fact, Wonwoo is sure he’s seen ‘Seokmin’ around too, just not as often since large crowds carry too much potential to be trampled to death. He has a vague memory of a barista who he used to see at Carat Cafe but his name tag reads ‘Robin’; a name he heard Soonyoung once say before. He hasn’t seen him around these days and wonders if ‘Robin’ even existed in the first place. 

But his fucking brain refuses to accept the fact that Seokmin is real until he’s able to see him and then break into his house to make sure he’s still alive. (Which he’s always tempted to do ever since Mingyu walked into his life, but that’s a story for another time). 

“I said I was taking Seokmin to the doctors, didn’t I?” The look on Soonyoung’s face reads annoyance. It seems to always be like this whenever he brings up his boyfriend’s name to his roommate. “But it shouldn’t take that long, so I’m asking you if you need anything while I’m out?”

“Tea. Green Tea, Black Tea, and Peppermint Tea. Please buy three boxes of the peppermint tea.”

“Why three? Isn’t that a bit much?” Soonyoung asks with a sheepish chuckle. 

“Is it? One of them is for you since it seems you’ve made a habit out of drinking my sister’s stash of peppermint tea. I understand it benefits you as someone who is physically active with dancing, but if you like it so much, please buy your own. Judging from how quiet my sister’s been these days, it’s safe to assume she might be suffering from stomach pain again due to stress. I would like it if she didn’t have to worry about her tea stash on top of whatever else she’s stressing about.” It bothers him to no end that he has no idea what his sister might be going through. Why isn’t she talking to him like she used to? What kind of secrets she might be hiding from him? The worst part of this whole scenario is that he can’t help her if he doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with her in the first place. 

There’s a moment of silence between them, causing Woneoo to lift his head and make eye contact with the baffled Soonyoung standing at the kitchen entrance. A pang of guilt attacks him, chewing on his heart as he stares at Soonyoung’s hurt face. 

“Sure, got it. Anything else?” 

“Not that I can think of at the moment, if I do, I’ll text you,” Wonwoo says while shutting the counter drawer. “Have fun shopping! Careful about the crowds, and remember to wash your hands when you get back. Oh and make sure you—”

“I know, wipe down everything with disinfectant before bringing it into the kitchen. As I said earlier, I’m taking Seokmin to the clinic to see his doctor. If it goes well, I’ll swing by the store on my way home.” With that, Soonyoung strolls out of the front door without a second glance, and the second the front door shuts, Wonwoo wants to bash his head into the marble countertop. Despite his roommates (except for Junhui, but he supposed the elder is slowly figuring it out) being aware of Wonwoo’s ‘quirks,’ he still can’t help feeling like a freak. The entire conversation he always has with Soonyoung ends up with them fighting - all because Wonwoo doesn’t know how to turn off his brain or keep his mouth shut. 

Maybe it’s true, and he simply  _ can’t  _ be normal. Everything expands and explodes in his head whenever he tries to think rationally about it. It’s horrible, he thinks. Especially when he knows his thoughts aren’t near reasonable for any living person, and yet, here he is. Wonwoo swallows that bitterness down - the one where he wishes he didn’t get this diagnosis when he was nineteen - and continues what he’s doing. It’s the only way he can handle the intruding thoughts that seem to be growing at an alarming rate by the day. 

Speaking of intruding thoughts, he hasn’t received any messages from his younger sister despite her promising she’d send updates throughout the day. So far, all he got was one and nothing after. He picks up the phone, checking his messages meticulously, seeing the messages he sent half an hour ago. It’s approaching the end of the hour, and WonWoo can feel himself getting antsy. Did something happen? Is she okay? What happens if she somehow  _ died  _ on the way to the park? Unable to handle the potential of his baby sister suddenly dying, he grabs his coat, keys, and phone before dashing out of the apartment. 

He  _ needs  _ to make sure JiWoo isn’t dead somewhere in a ditch. And despite calling her (as he impatiently waits for the elevator), getting her voicemail isn’t comforting at all. He calls her three times, each within a three-second time frame before darting out of the apartment complex. It’s time for him to turn into Sherlock WonWoo, solving the mystery as to where his sister is and bringing the evildoers to justice. He picks a direction and starts walking, trusting his intuition as an unknown force draws him closer. 

* * *

Everyone stumbles into Mingyu’s and Minghao’s apartment looking like drowned rats (thanks to the taller man conjuring up a nice thunderstorm), Minghao deposits an unconscious Mingyu on the sofa and offers the kids (and cat) some towels. JiWoo takes a look around the cramped apartment, noting the mismatched furniture and worn down wood floor. 

“Where’s your bathroom?” JiWoo asks. 

“Down the hall, first door on your left,” Minghao replies, helping Gigi dry her long black hair, looking like a mess. She nods and scoops up Miss Ava, claiming she’ll help wash off her dirty fur and paws from their eventful time in the park. She’s also heading in there with the intent of wringing water out of her clothes too. But taking care of Miss Ava is her priority.

The bathroom is small and cramped, nothing like the luxury she’s been accustomed to, nonetheless, the little bathtub/shower hybrid provides an excellent area to wring out the rainwater and give Miss Ava a small bath. When she stares at herself in the mirror, she can’t help but think she looks like a demonic entity, with all her hair in her face dripping water onto the floor. At least she invested into some waterproof eyeliner and mascara, or else she’ll look like she’s crying black tears. 

Miss Ava makes a fuss about her bath before JiWoo takes control, the glow of her teal eyes reflecting off the shallow water. Miss Ava is calm and obedient as she allows JiWoo to scrub her clean, gently. When her hand runs over the feline’s belly, she stops.  _ Miss Ava’s pregnant?  _ The telling sign is how the feline’s nipples are swollen and noticeably more pink, not to mention, she’s gained a bit of weight since she last held the snow white diva.  _ She must be about three weeks along at this point. _ She wonders if Jeonghan is even aware.  _ No wonder why she’s gotten heavier. Here I thought he was overfeeding her. _ She’ll have to break the news to him after this, or else he’ll have the shock of a lifetime when she pops out newborn kittens on his bed.

It takes her ten minutes in total to finish both Miss Ava’s bath, drying her with the blow dryer, and deeming her clothes dry enough before strutting back out because she could. Miss Ava scrambles to find Chan once they enter the living room, by running around and looking in every small dark corner. 

“You act like I tortured you back there,” JiWoo says as the smell of tomatoes wafting in the air makes her stomach start growling. God, she’s fucking hungry, she’s kicking herself for not eating anything so early in the morning. She peeks into the small kitchen, seeing Mingyu (awake and in different clothes) swiftly working a pizza pie. 

“Big sister!” Chan shrieks, coming out of nowhere, running into her legs. He grimaces, stepping back in utter disgust. “Big sister is all wet. I don’t like it.” 

“Chan!” JiWoo says, sighing. Sometimes kids say the darndest things that make you want to strangle them lovingly. This being one of those times. But not all kids are bad, she laments when Gigi emerges (wearing this long, black nightgown) and holding up a set of dark coloured clothing wordlessly. “Do you want me to wear these?” Gigi nods, shoving the clothes into JiWoo’s hands. For the second time today, JiWoo excuses herself to the bathroom (sans Miss Ava, who is relieved to see her human kitten is safe, smothering him with her love and enjoying his childish giggling).

The clothes given to JiWoo are baggy, hanging off her petite frame like the clothes are trying to consume her alive, well almost. What would have been an ankle long gown on Gigi is now like a mini dress on JiWoo (luckily, it’s not scandalously short). At least she was given someone’s old ripped skinny jeans to wear as bottoms, a tad loose, but it’s better than flashing her bare legs for everyone to see (no one wants to see that). But beggars can’t be choosers, and these feel better than her soaked clothes anyways. She emerges for a second time, smelling the delicious scent of basil and cheese. Her stomach growls again, earning her a snicker from Kai. 

“Are you excited?” he asks, staring at her before jerking his eyes away. He’s wearing a change of clothes, and might she say she likes whoever’s style he’s wearing. Black and white stripes with black ripped skinny jeans. Are they a duplicate of the jeans she’s wearing? Are they matching? If only her top was striped too.  _ God, what am I thinking? _ “I mean… for the pizzas.” 

“Yes, I’m starving,” she blurts out with a hand clasped at her waist to keep the jeans up. That’s when she notices the jeans on Kai don’t correctly fit around his waist, barely able to button, suggesting that whoever owns that pair of jeans does not possess child bearing hips like Kai does. The zipper zips up but the buttons don’t close (because of the aforementioned child bearing hips) and here the jeans on JiWoo threaten to fall (due to her lack of child bearing hips). She can’t help but giggle in amusement as Kai quickly covers up the buttons with the shirt, embarrassed. 

“I wonder where he learned to cook like that,” Kai says, thinking out loud as JiWoo takes a seat next to him on the living room carpet. Minghao sits on the sofa, various combs, and pins in his mouth as he works on Gigi’s unruly hair with great ease. 

“Big brother Seokmin helps Gigi more,” she says, staring at the TV with Chan and Miss Ava next to her. “Big brother Minghao is okay. But big brother Seokmin is better.”

“Rude,” Minghao mutters, pinning her hair back. “I like to think that I do a French braid pretty well. And Mingyu is from Italy if that helps.” Kai seems satisfied with the answer, looking embarrassed for thinking out loud. “Seokmin isn’t here right now. His boyfriend probably took him to his doctor’s appointment before we got back.” JiWoo hums in reply, feeling slightly disappointed. It would have been nice to meet Soonyoung’s boyfriend, finally, but she supposes the timing just isn’t right. They’ll meet someday. “It’s probably a good thing. He’s not good at meeting new people anyway.” 

“It’s okay,” JiWoo smiles. “I get it.” 

“Meeting new people is scary sometimes,” Kai pips up and glances at JiWoo, who giggles and mutters a soft ‘very’ as if implying it was terrifying meeting Kai. She lets out a small laugh when he playfully pouts at her like he’s hurt and offended.

“Big brother Kai, are you JiWoo’s new boyfriend?” Chan suddenly asks, large innocent eyes blinking. 

“No, he is my boyfriend.” Gigi tugs on Chan’s hand. (In the background, Mingyu has a minor heart attack because his baby sister said such scandalous things. Right in front of his pizza too!)

“I thought I was your boyfriend?” The boy frowns, tugging on her hand as well. 

“You are my first boyfriend and now my first husband,” she says, holding up one little finger as Chan nods in understanding. “Kai is my second boyfriend and soon to be my second husband.” 

“Really now? Engagement? How sweet?” JiWoo teases Kai with a silly grin. All the teenage boy can do is cover his face out of embarrassment. “Didn’t you two just meet today?” The little girl nods. “She sure moves fast,” JiWoo giggles the more awkward Kai gets. “But you know, Gigi, Kai was my boy (notice this space) friend first, stealing is a no-no,” she plays along with the theme, waving a finger in the air. Kai’s face heats up as he struggles to put the definition of the word boyfriend into understandable language for little kids. Actually, how on earth do two six-year-olds know what a boyfriend is? 

“Does it not mean a boy who is your friend? Boy-friend.” The two children stare up at the teenagers, waiting for an answer. Oops, Kai must’ve spoken his thoughts again - curse his inability to keep his mouth shut and his thoughts inside his head. “And, and… (JiWoo says a third ‘and’ out of habit) doesn’t husband mean your closest friend? I hear it on the TV when they say stuff like  _ my husband is my best friend. _ ” Chan explains with curious eyes.

“Therefore, it means that they are my boyfriends, right?” Gigi asks with a tilt of her head. Minghao merely sits back and watches, amused by the conversation transpiring all while Mingyu happens to walk in at the wrong moment, like always. 

“Yes,” JiWoo blurts out. “That is exactly what it means.”

Did they mean a boy who is a friend, or did they mean a romantic partner?

“Then what is Uncle Hao and Uncle Junnie then?” Chan tilts his head while flipping open his worn-out notebook and showing the now curious Minghao and Mingyu all the curses the six-year-old has written. Minghao’s name is written at the very top of the page, along with Junhui’s name. Mingyu guffawing at the sight, nearly falling over the sofa in the process of laughing. 

The Chinese man blinks, jaw going slack. “… You cursed me?” Minghao stares down at the grinning little boy and his notebook, unsure how to feel about it. Granted, Chan is only six, what kind of harmless curse could he have casted—

“I cursed you to get together with Uncle Junnie!”

—Scratch that, what kind of  _ horrible _ curse could a six-year-old have casted!? Minghao’s face remains stoic (as his mind screams in panic at him) when he sees the boy’s little innocent smile. “He was sad,” Chan continues, his smiling falling off. “But I don’t think you like Uncle Junnie. My curses don’t work unless you like him back.”

The adult stifles a nervous laugh behind his hand as Mingyu continues to die from laughter. At the moment, he can’t believe this is what his life has come to. Getting cursed by a six-year-old child to get together with someone he had a summer fling with years ago. “We’re both too busy to fall in love, Chan,” he explains. But apparently not too busy to continue his fling years later as friends with benefits kind of relationship. And undoubtedly not busy enough to catch feelings with said fling. 

“I didn’t know you could curse people like that,” JiWoo says, leaning over and asking to take a look at Chan’s notebook, a look of awe on her face. 

“Only if their feelings are, uhm… Uncle Hannie taught me this word. Mu-mutu-el?” It’s adorable the way he fumbles the word, but JiWoo simply smiles and pronounces it correctly for him to follow. “Mu-tu-al. They need to have the same feelings for the ‘Getting Closer’ curse to work. Like, I can curse you, JiWoo!” He beams and scribbles her curse into his notebook. “Once a curse is in my book, no take backsies!” 

JiWoo’s gentle and kind expression sours into a look of betrayal. “Who did you curse me with!?” She reaches out for the notebook, but Chan shifts, dodging her attack. Gigi gets a good look at the scribbles on the page before breaking out into a shit-eating grin. 

“I like this curse.” The little girl giggles, helping Chan to keep the notebook away from the teenage girl’s grasp. They pass it between each other as JiWoo’s cat reflexes fail her. It’s like she’s become a snail, or better yet, a sloth just like her older brother. The two children get Kai involved, who is conflicted when blocking JiWoo from grabbing the book. She seems determined to grab it when she lunges forward, reaching out for it, but Kai simply raises his arm as high as he can go. They end up crashing together, falling over on the ground with JiWoo on top. The book falls out of his hand, but they’re too stunned to even notice, distracted by how close their faces are to each other’s. Minghao simply sits there, clearing his throat, and tries not to look at the potential kiss that might happen. 

“I got it!” Chan blurts out, ruining that possible kissing moment. The two of them snap out of it and separate from each other, feeling slightly awkward and nervous. Chan makes a mistake by getting too close to JiWoo when he worries if she’s alright because she has her head low to hide her red face. She quickly grabs him, gently knocking him down as Gigi comes to his rescue. JiWoo manages to knock her down as well before she starts tickling them into submission. The sound of children laughing fills the room, putting a smile on everyone’s lips.

Just then, both the timer and the doorbell rings, causing everyone in the apartment to freeze. “I’m getting the pizza,” Minghao declares as the doorbell rings again. “If you get it, you’ll probably drop it or something.” 

Mingyu huffs, wiping his hands on his very adorable apron, heading towards the front door. Instantly, the taller man stiffens when a woman with a blonde bob cut (or as the kids call it ‘the Karen cut’) barrels herself in, wrapping her pudgy arms around his waist. 

“Eric! I missed you~!” the woman squeals out, much to the apartment tenets’ annoyance. Even little Gigi, who has a stoic face typically on, twists up in sheer disgust, which is hilarious to see but not in this context. 

“Um, Mrs. Smith,” Mingyu says, trying to shove her off him. “What can I do for you?” 

“Is your roommate home? The one who does photography?” Mrs. Smith asks, batting her eyelashes. “I have a request for him.” Mingyu nibbles on his lower lip, eyes flickering back to the kitchen where Minghao is, still remembering the amount of legal trouble she got his roommate in. 

“Didn’t you accuse him of molesting one of your children last time?” Within seconds, Mrs. Smith’s friendly demeanor twists into something angrier as she steps back and shoves Mingyu. The taller man flails his arms as he stumbles back, his slippers tripping him in the process. He lands with a painful  _ thump  _ against the shitty hardwood floor. On the floor, he lets out a string of curses as Gigi rushes to her brother’s side, checking over him for any boo-boos. The lady looks down at the little girl as if wanting to punt her out the window. 

“Excuse me,” JiWoo says, getting up from the floor and approaching the door. Kai quickly hurries after her, worried about the cold look on her face. There’s no telling what the girl might say now. “Mind explaining why you thought it was okay to push him down? What did he do to you?” 

“Move aside, little girl, this doesn’t involve you.” The woman glares daggers at the teenager, moving closer to start screaming in her face. “Back off, you dumb brat.” 

“Why don’t  _ you _ back off you old hag? Last I heard he didn’t invite you into this apartment.” In the background, they can hear Miss Ava meowing softly, a distressed mew when JiWoo turns her head, seeing Chan covering his ears and rocking back and forth, obviously overwhelmed with the situation at hand. He’s always disliked altercations like these when others are angry or upset as it reminds him too much of his screaming father. Minghao appears, offering a plush blanket to the little boy as the tensions grow. 

“How dare you talk to me like that?” Mrs. Smith demands. “Why don’t you mind your own business?” She steps into the apartment just as a familiar voice echoes through the hallway - sending chills down JiWoo’s spine. Her bully comes into view, her blonde hair looking like an unsightly growth on top of her head. Jennifer has on a disgusting smirk on her face as she walks inside. 

“Gross, it’s this freak of nature,” she sneers. “What are you doing out of your bat cave? Ran out of human blood?” 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Minghao mutters, walking over. “Get out of my home before someone gets hurt.” This was the bad thing JiWoo was feeling earlier, she knew it was too good to be true just when she was starting to think life isn’t so bad after all, but then it had to come and shit in her face.

“You can’t do anything,” Mrs. Smith retorts. “You’re on probation.” 

“That you caused!” Mingyu helpfully says. “You’re just mean. Take your meanness and leave! We don’t want it.” Minghao pats Mingyu on the head as if to say, ‘you tried.’ Gigi looks over at Chan, seeing Kai try to help the little boy from his panic attack. 

“You’ve been requested to leave, so leave. Unless we do need to get the cops involved?” JiWoo warns with folded arms.

“Do it! We all know you’re too chicken to speak to anyone other than your dumb gay boyfriends anyway!” Jennifer screams, and with that, something within Chan snaps when a little boy (around Chan’s age) walks in and growls at Gigi, his mouth opening to harass the girl. His insults are just as bad as his older sisters, both JiWoo and Gigi stand there as their bullies mock and hurt them with their nasty words. Their mother Karen just stands there, looking proud while Mingyu and Minghao think of ways to stop this without getting into more legal trouble. They don’t know what Karen might say if they so much as touch one of her kids (she’s already made the bold claim that Minghao molested one of them which is not true in the slightest). 

Jennifer has a lot to say, and so does her little brother. They share similar mannerisms when they poke and shove their victims until they’re almost backed into a corner with nowhere to run to. The little boy succeeds in knocking Gigi down to the ground. JiWoo turns to help, but Jennifer stops her and yanks her away from the two children with an audible popping sound from her elbow. Her victim turns and whimpers from the sharp pain while Jennifer scolds her, saying it’s rude to walk away when someone is speaking to her. 

JiWoo’s not sure how much more of this she can take before something snaps inside of her. Everything is happening too suddenly and too quickly, and before she knows it, that’s when a flock of crows barrels through the open window and door. The murder comes in at such speed that they rip through the window screen completely before descending upon the little boy who’s been bullying Gigi ruthlessly, now screaming in terror as the crows peck at his skin with their sharp beaks. One manages to pierce through the skin, drawing blood. The boy screams again, causing the girls to shriek too. As much as Jennifer and her mother try to get the boy from the murder, there’s no use; the birds are hyperfocused on the boy. 

“Stop!” JiWoo shouts, seeing the fear in Gigi’s eyes as Mingyu shields his sister with his body while Minghao swings a broom at the crows that land near Chan and Miss Ava. Kai rushes over to try and help Jennifer and her mother fight off the crows, but they fail as blood splatters everywhere. A soft teal glow colours JiWoo’s irises as she stalks closer to the horrific scene. “You have to stop, all of you! Please!” she calls out to the raging birds, but none of them seem to listen. “I said, stop!” she yells to no avail. The crows continue to peck at the little kid until the boy falls to the hardwood floor, causing blood to splash up onto those near his bloodied body. The child is not moving. That’s when the murder exits the way they came in, revealing one of the most gruesome sights anyone has seen. 

A little boy lying on the hardwood floor with blood pooling around him - his eyes pecked out and bits of flesh torn from his small body. Anyone with eyes can see that he’s dead. There’s a beat of silence before Mrs. Smith screams bloody murder, and the afternoon turns into a crime scene. JiWoo has to hold herself upwards in a vain effort not to faint, but when seeing the dead boy, she can’t control herself. Her head goes light, and everything turns black as someone calls the cops. 

* * *

Scattered on a laboratory bench, sits two files - both with pictures of two little boys, clipped to the compressed folder on display. One has a small cute button nose, and bright eyes as those exact eyes stare back dully into the camera. The other has sharper features, not as cute as the little boy before - but his eyes still contain the same emotion as the former. Dull and scared, as if wanting to disappear from this hell they’re trapped in. 

The wind blows one of the files open. 

**Name: Choi, San**

**Sex: Male**

**Race: Korean**

**Age: 4**

**Birthplace:** the birthplace is scratched out

**Birthday: July 10,** the birth year had been scratched out

**Power: Intangibility**

**Details: Subject 00110 came to us after the failure of the first governmental experience** .  **Due to his young age, we have high hopes that he will become what our program needs and desires. With the latest technology given by** (the words are blocked out),  **we hope to** (the words are blocked out).  **More information will be provided on his progress.**

**Subject 00110 is taking well to treatment. He is a fast learner for being our latest recruit. If he continues like this, our mission will be done, and we would have created the first** (the words are scratched out) **without him betraying us like Subject 00017. More updates will be documented as the experiments continue** . 

**Final update: Our experiment was successful** (name extracted) **, in addition to his intangibility, Subject 00110 has developed a new power: enhanced agility - something that has helped aid in his missions. He is currently our most successful experimentation after the success of Subject 00017 seven years ago. Unlike Subject 00017, Subject 00110 is much more docile, more willing to obey any orders given to him. In the future, we hope to recreate these results. Until further notice, we shall keep him within lockdown.**

**Emergency update: A rogue group has broken into our facility, holding Subject 00110, and released him. He is currently kidnapped, presumed dead.**

**Status: Endangered Missing - return to** (the words are scratched out)  **if found. $500,000,000 reward: dead or alive.**

The wind blows again, causing the second file to flip open. This file looks older than the record before, like it was written years before the first. And yet, it seems as though someone is trying to erase the existence of whoever the file is about. 

**Name:** There is black ink smudging the name.

**Sex: Male**

**Race: Korean-American**

**Age: 6**

**Birthplace: Los Angeles**

**Birthday: December 30,** the birth year had been scratched out

**Power: Healing/Pain infliction**

**Details: Subject 00017 came to us in the** (the words are blocked out).  **We have high hopes for such a young contractor - many previous subjects were of high school or middle age that were discovered when our agents witnessed them using their powers. With the latest technology given by** (the words are blocked out),  **we hope to** (the words are blocked out).  **More information will be provided.**

**Subject 00017 is taking well to treatment. He is a fast learner for being one of our latest recruits. If he continues like this, our mission will be done, and we would have created the first** (the words are scratched out) **. More updates will be documented as the experiments continue** . 

There’s something odd about the way the documents are written - it’s as if the person writing it is following a set report, thus leading to them writing the bare minimum of what’s needed. 

* * *

Wonwoo is out of breath and restless when he can’t seem to find out any clues as to where his sister might be. There was an invisible force that was guiding him through the streets a short while ago before it suddenly vanished, leaving him feeling lost and confused. He finds himself in Sector Zero, looking around. He peeks into Carat Cafe, hoping to see his sister inside with her friend, but he doesn’t see anyone familiar other than Joshua who’s near the front entrance wiping down a table. 

He’s tempted to walk in and ask if he’s seen his sister around, but he doesn’t want to disturb him while he’s working. Let alone; if he hasn’t seen his sister, then it might prompt him to worry about her for the rest of his shift unnecessarily. So he’s about to sprint off when he runs into someone who catches him before he can fall on his ass. When he looks up, he sees someone new - a young man, younger than Wonwoo, that’s for sure - holding onto his arm tightly. Wonwoo winces, steadying himself as the young man eyes him. Above a flock of crows flutter down, landing close by. There’s something off about this murder, but Wonwoo can’t seem to pinpoint what it is. The young man looks off towards the flock and smiles.

“I love crows,” he says. “They’re such intelligent creatures.” Intelligent, yes, but the negative association with these birds are too much for Wonwoo to ignore (even if his sister considers them her friends). The young man’s hand is still wrapped around the older’s bicep. He turns towards the frightened student and grins, his sharp canines protruding outwards. The kid looks like a fucking bloodthirsty vampire, ready to devour his next meal (he means neck’s meal, but this isn’t a time for puns, Wonwoo).

“Um…” Wonwoo says, pointing towards the guy’s hand. “Thank you for uh… catching me. Can you let me go?” 

But the man doesn’t let go. “Did you know a flock of crows is called a murder? Isn’t that interesting?” He looks over to them, noting they have now moved closer to Wonwoo. It’s unnerving to see those unblinking eyes staring right back at you. That’s when the distinct metallic smell of blood filters through the air and towards Wonwoo. It’s sickeningly sweet drops of it dripping off the crows’ feathers, and onto the cobblestone walkway. A scary realization dawns upon Wonwoo as the flock moves closer and closer to him - these birds are soaked head to toe in blood and other bodily fluids. 

He can smell the familiar scent of decay on these birds, after all, working in a biology lab for about four years of his life, he’s bound to recognize some scents. But he never expected to have the strong smell of death lurking around the corner. Swallowing, he watches as the birds circle them like a gang. One of the birds has a bit of tendon stuck on its beak, the piece of muscle just  _ dangling  _ in the scary October wind. Another coughs up an eyeball, the offending organ rolling over the stones and stops at Wonwoo’s feet.  _ I’m going to throw up.  _

The door to the Carat Cafe opens, and a very exasperated Joshua comes out with his hands on his hips. “San, I thought your break ended—” His eyes grow wide as he sees the eyeball sitting at Wonwoo’s feet. “Is that a—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, however, as another bird casually walks over to that regurgitated eyeball, picks it up with his long beak and swallows it whole. Wonwoo would have almost thrown up whatever he had in his stomach right there and then if Joshua hadn’t started to scream in agony. 

The barista grips his head, doubling over and falling to his knees. Sweat pours down his temple, soaking his hair as his head feels like it’s splitting apart. His head suddenly jerks back, bending his spine into an impossible angle as his eyes turn from brown to grey before slumping over with his bangs over his eyes. Joshua then calmly stands up. He looks at Wonwoo through his hair, stuffing his hands into his pockets before casually walking through the murder of crows. The birds step aside as if Joshua is Moses and is parting the red sea. 

“Your break was over ten minutes ago,” Joshua says, his usually kind and soft voice replaced with a hard edge. There’s something about Joshua now that sends shivers down Wonwoo’s spine, it’s hard to put his finger on it, but something is unnerving about the jerky way Joshua walks. It’s like he broke his femur and doesn’t know it yet. “Get back to work.” The young man - San - lets go of Wonwoo’s bicep and heads inside without a single word. The cafe door slams shut as Joshua looks directly into Wonwoo’s soul. Fear keeps him rooted in place as he stares back. Next to him, another crow vomits up a half-digested eyeball next to Joshua’s loafers. 

The flock of crows around Joshua suddenly lets out a cry of anguish, the birds taking flight around him. Droplets of blood from the feathers of the crows splatter onto the sidewalk and Joshua’s face (fortunately missing Wonwoo due to the distance between them). Half of it is covered in blood, making him look more deranged than he is. Is this the man Wonwoo has gotten to know over the years? 

“I suggest you leave before something bad happens,” Joshua says, bending down to pick up a stray feather before reaching towards the eyeball, covered in bird vomit, gingerly picking it up with his fingers. He walks over to Wonwoo, flicking the feather away, and tugs on the younger’s hand. Too scared to move, Wonwoo allows the barista to manhandle him, his hand waiting underneath Joshua’s. Palm up and open as if receiving something. 

In a swift motion, Joshua crushes the half-digested eyeball, letting the goo seep through the cracks of his fingers and onto Wonwoo’s palm before dropping the deflated organ onto the student’s open hand. Wonwoo swallows the scream that’s bubbling up inside as the older wipes the remains on the biology student’s coat. 

“You won’t know what bad things might happen, but I assure you.” Joshua pauses, a sinister smile plastered on his face. “You will be in a world of pain if you continue to interfere.” With that, the barista swiftly turns around and heads back into the cafe - leaving Wonwoo standing on the sidewalk, stunned and disgusted. He drops the eyeball in fright and begins to run, run far away from that place because he has no idea who Joshua really is. 

* * *

Flashing blue and red lights has brought the residents of the Together apartments outside to the streets - each one wondering what the hell is going on (except the drug dealers that live on the fourth floor, they’re just worried that the police will raid their stash). Seungcheol makes his way up the concrete stairs in the back area, where there are leaky pipes dripping water. Above on the second floor, it looks like a scene straight out of a horror movie, blood splatters against the wallpaper in the hallway. As he walks closer to the apartment, he sees Mingyu talking to one of the officers (Kihyun) while Ailee is taking pictures of the crime scene. 

“It was awful!” the lady says, waving her arms around as Seungcheol walks closer to the older officer Hoseok. “Suddenly, crows were flying in and attacking my son!” She breaks down into tears, her daughter helping her up and dabbing the lady’s eyes. 

“But why were you here?” Hoseok asks, writing it down. “From what you told me, you live on the third floor. So… why are you here?” 

“Officer,” the teenager says. “What are you implying? That my mother had something to do with this? Are you insane?” 

Hoseok looks taken aback, holding up his hands defensively. “I mean, no… but like, it’s just a precaution so we can have the full picture of the incident.” 

“It was for a nice visit.” The teenager crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at the officer - who looks like he’s about ten seconds away from running. Who knew the big intimidating Hoseok is scared of a teenage girl? Granted, all teenagers are scary, so it’s warranted. 

“It doesn’t look very friendly,” Seungcheol says, gently inserting himself into the conversation. He flashes the teenager a smile, who visibly gulps at the sight of the detective. So she does remember Seungcheol, how thoughtful. He clicks open his pen, scribbling down what he’s hearing. But there’s something about the way Jennifer Smith is speaking that doesn’t sit right with the detective - sure he may specialize in cold cases, but he can detect a liar when he hears one. After all, his job does revolve around catching killers. “So, was it really friendly?” 

“Y-yes,” Jennifer mutters, averting eye contact. “All mom wanted was to talk to the photographer that lives there for a gig. Then that stupid oaf decided to accuse mom of something she would  _ never  _ do, and well, then the crows came. End of the story.” 

Just as Seungcheol is about to press further (and given the teenager’s habit of lying, he doesn’t fully believe her story), the mother comes back from her sobbing fit. “I can’t believe he’d accuse me of such vile things!” 

“Ma’am,” Hoseok says, trying to calm down the hysterical mother. “Please, calm down. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Um… go and talk to the paramedic. He’ll help you.” Jennifer takes her sobbing mother over to the handsome paramedic, all while Seungcheol and Hoseok enter the crime scene. The apartment looks normal, save for the massive bloodstain on the hardwood floor near the front door. Seungcheol peeks inside, seeing Chan sound asleep in Kai’s arms with Miss Ava on the teenager’s lap. Senior officer Smith stands in front of Minghao, who is currently handcuffed, and the pair are glowering at each other. 

JiWoo is awake, looking dazed as the little goth girl sits close to the older goth girl, holding the teenager’s hand for comfort. Mingyu (who finished giving his statement outside a moment ago) sits on the other side, staring off into the distance like he’s trying to figure out why any of this even happened.

“For the last time, Darryl,” Minghao says. “Your wife just came to my apartment and shoved my roommate onto the ground. I had nothing to do with what happened.”

“I find that hard to believe Xu,” officer Smith spits back. “You’re a massive troublemaker for the city, and now I’m finally able to put you into prison.” 

“With what evidence!?” 

“Officer Smith,” Hoseok says, breaking apart the tense atmosphere. “I think officer Jones needs some help outside controlling the media.” The senior officer grumbles, declaring this won’t be the last time Minghao has seen him. The man swears to get Minghao into prison if it’s the last thing he does. Talk about an authority that doesn’t have their priorities straight.

Against the younger’s better judgment, he mentally picks up one of the paperback books from his end table and chucks it at the officer - hitting him in the head - as revenge for putting him in those stupid handcuffs again. The look on officer Smith’s face when he runs back in, holding up the aforementioned book, is priceless. Mingyu finally snaps out of it just in time to see Darryl scream bloody murder. 

“Who threw this book at me!?” he shouts. “Xu, did you do it!?” 

“How can I? You handcuffed me, remember?” He holds up his bound hands from behind, jiggling them a bit. The man grumbles, whipping the book onto the floor and storming out, his face still bright red from being attacked by a paperback. 

“Minghao,” Seungcheol sighs, picking up the book and handing it to Mingyu. “As much as you like to enact revenge on officer Smith, please refrain from doing so. It’s bad enough the contractor division of the police force is understaffed, but we don’t need that idiot coming back to bother you more.” 

“To be fair,” Mingyu says. “The man did tackle Hao to the ground like they were playing in the NFL.” They’re just lucky no one got seriously hurt in the process, there still are minors in the home. 

Minghao sighs. “If only there were a law protecting citizens against police brutality.” 

Seungcheol ignores the roommates as Mingyu gets to work on picking the lock on Minghao’s handcuffs. The detective kneels in front of JiWoo. She looks catatonic, similar to how Seungkwan would get whenever something triggering comes into his view, shutting down mentally. She doesn’t acknowledge him, blinking slowly as he softly talks to her - cautiously treading the waters. 

“You did well, JiWoo,” he murmurs in Korean, remembering what the child psychologist said to do whenever Seungkwan got into this state. “There wasn’t anything you did wrong, okay? Do you want me to drive you home? I’m sure your brother is worried about you.” He watches her give a gentle nod, her gaze never breaking from that distant look. He holds out his hand, waiting for her to make that choice to hold it or not. She takes it, slipping it out of the little girl’s hand, standing as Seungcheol gently guides her out of the room. Kai looks worried as he watches the pair walk out. 

“She will be okay, right?” Gigi asks him, crawling up onto the couch to cuddle into his side.

“I hope so. I really do.” Kai knows better than to lie to children, all he can do is be honest. He wraps his free arm around Gigi, feeling overwhelmed by everything. There’s no doubt everyone involved is absolutely traumatized, but someone has to be strong for the little ones, right? The lights in the apartment suddenly flicker, causing him to look up and wonder what else could go wrong. Miss Ava stares up at the teen while he gets lost in his thoughts, she then shifts her gaze to Chan, chittering with worry. Something’s not right, and she can feel it.

Seungcheol does what he does whenever Seungkwan gets in this kind of state of mind, reminding her that she’s okay and she’s safe. She’s not the one at fault, nor did she do anything to deserve to see the horrific act that occurred. Going down the stairs is a slow process, but Seungcheol is patient and doesn’t rush her. It’s best to go at her pace. Just as they step down onto the first floor, Wonwoo enters, looking breathless with something that looks like clear jello smeared on his shirt. His eyes widen when he sees his sister. He runs over and engulfs her into a massive hug. The familiar scent of his shampoo filters through her senses as her hands leave Seungcheol’s and grips onto the back of Wonwoo’s beige trenchcoat. 

“Oh, thank God,” Wonwoo mutters in Korean. “You’re safe. I was so worried. Are you okay?” She looks up at him with the same look she did over five years ago, that look of confusion mixed with a deep sadness. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. With that one gesture, Wonwoo understands. 

“Um…” Wonwoo says in his broken English. “Thank you for helping my sister. We’ll get going now.” He ushers his sister out of the building; he needs to get her home as soon as possible before something even worse happens. The last thing he wants is for her to get caught by authorities if her ability slips up in the public eye from stress. They head out to the sea of reporters, those life-sucking leeches waiting for anyone who’d talk to them and give them the scoop. Wonwoo has no choice but to pick up his sister and flee before they can get stuck. The sound of a loud crash startles everyone, turning their attention to the uprooted tree nearby, giving the siblings a better chance to get away. Seungcheol watches them, a deep sadness bubbling inside of his chest. A part of him wishes that his relationship with Yeonjun is just as good - but he knows that’s only a fantasy. He turns his back on the two siblings, unable to watch that bond any longer. He heads up the stairs, unaware of someone lingering in the background, their grey eyes watching everything. 

* * *

Taehyun is among the crowd of onlookers when the police show up unexpectedly. At first, the novelty of the police arriving isn’t that interesting since the cops are called all the time in this neighbourhood. But then, he realizes it’s Mingyu’s apartment they’re investigating and suddenly, everything changes. He knows the tenets of that apartment, and they’d never do something that would cause like a million cop cars to show up. He sticks around until everything is cleared up and pays a visit to check on his neighbour. 

Let’s just say, Taehyun’s a little more than shocked when he sees Kai there along with Jeonghan’s kid nephew and pet cat in the dark living room. Like always, Mingyu invites him inside for something to eat, despite the gloomy mood they were in. Oddly enough, Kai doesn’t join them, claiming he’s not hungry in a soft voice. 

Moments after eating and getting an explanation from both Mingyu and Minghao, Taehyun hears Kai make a mad dash towards the bathroom as the two roommates stare at each other. “Uh,” Taehyun says, after seeing his friend head to the bathroom. “Where’s Robin? And will you all be okay?” 

“Doctors,” Mingyu replies. “And we will be.” 

“I’m fine,” Minghao bluntly says, pushing himself up from the table. “Excuse me. While all of this is going on, I still have a deadli— … an assignment to deal with.” With that, he disappears down the hall, leaving an awkward situation for Taehyun and Mingyu. The kids are in the living room, quietly dozing off while watching cartoons on the TV. Usually, Mingyu limits how much he’ll let his sister watch (believing the TV could rot a child’s mind), but just for today, he’ll allow it. He doesn’t know how else to comfort the traumatized children, if they want to watch dumb cartoons as a distraction, he’ll let them. Meanwhile, Mingyu offers the teenager a cup of tea to calm the nerves, but by the way Mingyu’s hands shake, it’s better not to ask for something that can potentially scald him.

“I’ll go check on Kai, if you don’t mind.” Taehyun smiles awkwardly as Mingyu nods, his hands still shaking as he tries to clean up the kitchen. The whole ordeal must’ve sent them all into various degrees of shock. None of which seems healthy to Taehyun. But that being said, Taehyun, himself, wouldn’t know what to do in a situation like that - it’s just so… for lack of a better word, wild to him. 

From the inside of the bathroom, he can hear his young friend retching, forcing the level-headed young adult to epically kick down the door. More like, epically open the unlocked door, but Taehyun wants to feel a bit cool here. On the cold, tiled floor sits Kai, his bloody hands gripping the side of the porcelain bowl as he vomits up his lunch. Taehyun hurries over, helping his friend puke everything out. 

“I’m sorry,” Kai manages to say while shaking in a cold sweat. “I just can’t get that image out of my head.”

“It’s okay. I don’t blame you. What happened sounds pretty traumatic.” He can’t imagine witnessing that himself. Luckily the scene was already cleaned up before he was able to come in to visit, and Mingyu spared him the graphic details. But judging by the blood splattered on his friend’s clothes and face, it’s safe to say Kai has seen some shit. 

Suddenly, Kai’s brain seems to shut down for a moment, giving Taehyun a chance to clean him up. He grabs the black wash cloth from the towel rack and gently wipes away the blood from Kai’s hands and face. He’ll have to hold off on cleaning his clothes, he doesn’t want to make the stains worse by rubbing them with the towel. As he finishes cleaning Kai’s face, the younger snaps out of it, his distant look breaking as his eyes dart around the room before landing on Taehyun’s kind smile. 

He can see it in Kai’s eyes, he’s not the same anymore, it’s like he’s broken and lost. But Taehyun wants to believe it’ll pass, it’ll get better with time. He’ll eventually forget this ever happened, maybe. After helping Kai clean up in the bathroom, they figure it’s time to take their leave. Taehyun offers to help Kai home by carrying Miss Ava in her cat carrier while Kai carries a sleeping Chan in his arms. 

“If you start to feel sick again, let me know,” Taehyun says in a stern tone. Kai really shouldn’t be carrying Chan if he’s not feeling well to begin with. Kai simply chuckles, letting him know he feels better after getting some fresh air. 

When they reach Home Apartments, Taehyun makes a call to his grandmother to update her on the situation. He plans to stay with Kai for the night, too worried about leaving him alone with Chan. What if he gets sick again and there’s no one to look after the little boy? Kai’s father might not be home until much later or even until the morning. He ignores Kai’s protests and makes himself at home. As much as Kai doesn’t want to admit he’s not okay, he appreciates his friend looking out for him like this. Maybe he can sleep easier knowing he has a helping hand, but he already knows tonight won’t be easy in regards to falling asleep peacefully. He’s sure to have nightmares, though he hopes little Chan will be okay during the night. He can only hope for now.

* * *

Seokmin comes home to see Mingyu sitting out on the sofa, looking utterly dazed. Something is burning in the kitchen, and the normally meticulous chef doesn’t take notice. Not until the smoke alarm starts screeching its little head off that the taller jumps up, his limbs flailing as he hurries to the kitchen. Odd, everything about the scene is unusual, and maybe Seokmin isn’t used to leaving his bedroom that he doesn’t notice these things, but Mingyu isn’t usually this scatterbrained. Not to mention, whenever the smoke alarm does start blaring, Minghao is instantly out of his room, helping Mingyu with the smoke and nagging him over his carelessness. Today, there’s none of that. 

The oldest roommate kicks off his shoes and cautiously tiptoes in when Gigi grabs hold of his calf. Something the little girl isn’t prone to doing. Looking down, he squats down to her level and notices the redness in her eyes as she wordlessly opens her arms for a hug. He obliges, giving her one, even though he’s not entirely sure why he’s doing such an act. It feels weird for him to do something like this. Most of the time, others are offering him support. 

“Are you sad?” Seokmin asks. “Did big brother Gyu hurt your feelings?” Gigi shakes her head, burying her face into Seokmin’s neck. There’s a damp feeling on his skin as he pads through the apartment, heading towards the kitchen. Mingyu stands there with something burnt on the pan, frantically trying to scrub it off. He doesn’t notice Seokmin standing in the doorway until the older clears his throat. 

Whipping around, Mingyu accidentally drops the pan into the sink - landing with a loud clatter that can wake up the dead. “Minnie!” Mingyu says a tad too forcefully, like he’s biting through some pain. But Seokmin can’t seem to place why he’s in agony. “Wh-when did you get home? How was your doctor’s appointment? Was it good?” 

“Um, a few seconds ago,” Seokmin replies, hiking Gigi up higher in his arms. “Why do you sound like that?” 

“Sound like what?” 

“Sound like… you’re hiding something from me.” Seokmin frowns at the thought. His friends wouldn’t hide something from him, would they? Even if it takes a massive toll on their mental health? After all, they made a pact in high school to talk to each other about everything - granted; it hasn’t been lived up to. (Especially when it came to crushes, cough, Minghao, cough). 

Mingyu laughs, but it sounds horrifically forced. “Why would I be hiding something from you?” His voice does this weird pitchy thing whenever he’s lying. Seokmin doesn’t push it further, though, he doesn’t know what to say or if he  _ can  _ say anything to make it all better. Mingyu laughs again, telling Seokmin to get cleaned up, his dinner will be ready soon. The older obliges, handing a weepy Gigi off to her older brother. Seokmin heads down the hall towards his bedroom, passing by Minghao’s closed bedroom door, pressing an ear to the door. He can hear the youngest roommate punching something, a choked scream lingering in the back of the other’s throat. For a moment, Seokmin wonders if he should walk in to see if something is happening but then decides against it. 

He wouldn’t know what to say or do. So, he disappears into his bedroom, feeling a wall of ice lingering between him and his roommate.  _ What’s the point of being alive if people aren’t willing to lean on you in times of need?  _ Suddenly, his appetite disappears, and he’s left with this overwhelming sorrow that fills his stomach instead, causing him to sink to the ground and stare blankly at the floor. He should say something, he should say anything, but neither the energy nor the words come to mind - leaving Seokmin an empty husk of a person. 

“Minnie?” Seokmin jerks his head up, seeing Minghao standing in the doorway, his fingers tight around the doorframe. “When did you come back?” 

“Just a few minutes ago,” Seokmin answers. “You look pale.” 

“I think it’s because I haven’t left my room in a few hours.” Minghao smiles, but something about it doesn’t sit right with Seokmin. It’s smiling for smiling sake, not because he’s genuinely happy. The younger comes and takes a cautious seat next to Seokmin, resting his head on the older man’s shoulder. It must be uncomfortable for Minghao since both of them are the same height, it’s just Minghao has more gangly limbs than Seokmin. But somehow, they make it work. The air in the room feels incredibly tense, like there’s a thick fog that surrounds them. Seokmin doesn’t know what to do or say, but from the tight grip on his’s bicep; there shouldn’t be anything to say. 

Minghao is the one who speaks first. “You know… how I grew up in the slums of Anshan - well, I didn’t expect to see the shit I saw over there happen here too.” 

“What do you mean?” But Minghao doesn’t get a chance to answer when Mingyu comes running in, his eyes looking through the two as he tells them that dinner is ready. But from the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like anyone wants to eat now. So, Mingyu doesn’t push them to eat, crawling next to Seokmin with Gigi coming in soon after, taking a seat on Mingyu’s lap. Seokmin looks at all three of his roommates, irritation fluttering up in his chest as he watches them give silent, cryptic messages to one another. Are they even trying anymore? 

“What the hell is going on?” Seokmin asks, his voice sharper than it usually is, causing them to wince from the tone visibly. “Can someone please tell me? I don’t have mind-reading powers here!” 

Mingyu looks like he wants to vomit, while Minghao looks like he wants to be anywhere but there, and yet, he’s the one who tells Seokmin about the incident. A clear toll on both of them as they both avert eye contact with the oldest roommate. Seokmin can feel utter frustration in his belly, a part of him wants to scream at them for keeping such an important secret. The other side of him feels horrible that they had to go through that and lack any support in the aftermath. He’s torn between wanting to help them and being unable to. How can you help someone else when you’re barely holding yourself together?

“I… I’m sorry,” he finally whispers out. “I… I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” 

“We should’ve told you,” Minghao retorts back. “It’s just… I didn’t think—” 

“Is this something you deal with regularly?” Mingyu suddenly asks, all eyes turning towards Minghao, who looks away. “You can tell us, Hao. What are we going to do? Kick you out?” 

“That’s exactly why I don’t talk about my past,” Minghao says back, his voice cracking like glass. Seokmin has never seen Minghao cry before; the ones who cry in the apartment usually are Seokmin himself and Mingyu. Never Minghao. It probably has something to do with being a street kid and the stupid belief that tears are a sign of weakness. Now, when looking back, Minghao looks like shattered glass, strewn along the ground as he chokes down his sadness, a lifetime of hurt comes flooding forward. 

“I don’t want to be thrown out.” His voice sounds so small, unlike the normally confident Minghao the two roommates know and love. “But, kids dying I’ve seen before.” Minghao sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his tattered work shirt. “It doesn’t get any better with time.” Like that, the two roommates can put the pieces together and unable to handle the potential rejection, Minghao stands.

“Don’t go,” Seokmin utters weakly. “Please don’t go. It’s alright.” He reaches out, grasping Minghao’s skinny wrist into his hand, tugging the younger man down. “It’s alright.” And that has Minghao breaking down into tears, quietly crying as Mingyu and Gigi join their little group hug. Even though Seokmin says that everything will eventually be alright, is that even true? In fact, will it ever?

* * *

JiWoo’s bedroom door is not locked. Anyone can come into her room if they wanted to, but they don’t. “Just give her space,” they say, but all she wants is someone there. 

“It’s best not to touch her. She doesn’t like that kind of thing.” But she wants someone to hold her and tell her it’ll be alright. 

“Just leave her alone for now.” She doesn’t want to be alone anymore. No matter how hard she tries to speak, the words don’t come out; her vocal cords have been paralyzed. She can’t even move; her brain signals are acting like they’re blocked. She wants to scream but can’t. It’s like she’s trapped in her own body, mind working while her body fails to move like a living statute. She’s scared. She’s so fucking scared. 

All she can do is stare at the door, waiting for her brother to walk through and check on her. He always does at the most inconvenient times, but now when she needs it the most, he doesn’t. Why? Are they afraid of her?  _ I need someone right now…  _ But no one comes. She can feel the tears spilling from her eyes down the side of her face, and she lies there, feeling helpless and defeated. She hates this feeling. When she hears the door creak open, there’s a spark of hope. She opens her eyes and slowly turns her head to look at the door, expecting to see her brother or one of her other roommates, but all she sees is the dead little boy peeking in through the crack of the door with his bloodied eyes. 

JiWoo can feel her blood run cold, her breathing stopping before everything turns black. Next thing she knows, it’s dark… and it’s quiet. She isn’t sure where she is or if she’s even alive at this point. She can’t see, can’t hear. She’s cold and numb. It feels like she’s been plunged into the bottom of the ocean, buried deep in marianas trenches. But oddly enough, she doesn’t think she cares anymore. There’s the saying when people say they’re afraid of the dark, not to fear the dark, but fear what might be lingering in it. Right now, she feels like she’s the safest in the dark where no one can see her, not even the monsters that might be lurking in it. It feels like a place where no one can find her. Just alone and forgotten, like she never existed in the first place. And she starts to think; maybe it might be better off that way.

* * *

It’s late into the night, but Mingyu can’t sleep - not when he closes his eyes, and all he can see is flashing blue and red lights along with a bloodied body on the floor of his apartment. Deciding that his apartment is far too cramped for his liking, he quickly gets out of bed (being careful not to wake his sister) and dresses for the cold night of autumn. He just needs to get out for a bit, clear his overactive mind, so he’s able to sleep. Thankfully, he called Feifei during dinner and told her about the situation, and Feifei being Feifei demanded that he take the rest of the week off. And Mingyu, being Mingyu, absolutely scared shitless by his manager, agrees. 

He steps out into the fresh, brisk air, feeling the cold slap against his cheeks, turning them red. But he can’t handle it; instead, he feels numb, empty. How can someone just move on after seeing a flock of birds attack and  _ kill  _ a little boy? Witnessing something you usually see in horror movies in real life? In fact, how does someone just move forward from an incident like that? He knows Minghao has seen people die before; sometimes, he’d tell stories about how he’d kill rival gang members back in Anshan. But judging by the distant look in the Chinese man’s eyes, those deaths still haunt him to this day and they do. Seeing Minghao break down like that was heartbreaking, and Mingyu wonders if he’ll become like that too. 

Somehow, Mingyu’s legs take him to the playground nearby that Gigi hates because there’s too much sun, and it burns. Now only with the full moon as his only light source, he makes his way to the swings, sitting on the cold plastic and wincing with the equally freezing metal touches his skin through his thin sweatpants. All he wants to do is sit there, and stare at the stars, get his mind away from the tragedy that happened. He can still hear the echoes of the boy screaming in his ears, as if the scene is replaying itself. Not to mention, the kids who saw it. 

Sure, Gigi and Chan are still young enough that their memories won’t remember it very well, but what about JiWoo and Kai? They’re old enough to form long-term memories, ones that will follow them into adult life. And does Mingyu and Minghao have to carry this burden for the rest of their lives? Live with that guilt that something could’ve been prevented? 

“Mingyu?” Wonwoo’s deep voice says, scaring Mingyu out of his thoughts. Something he’s so thankful for - he needs something to clear his mind. “What are you doing out so late?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Mingyu replies, tucking his long legs in and allowing Wonwoo to head to the swing next to him. “Why are you out so late?” 

“I had to run a few errands, and as I was driving back, I saw you.” Wonwoo takes a seat, kicking upwards and beginning to start a slow swing. He rocks back and forth, his feet scraping the gravel as he does so. “So, why are you out so late?” 

Mingyu hesitates, debating on whether or not he should say something. A part of him doesn’t want to and pretend it doesn’t exist - that’s something he’s more used to. He’s used to just erasing parts of his memory; that’s why he doesn’t have any memories before the age of ten. But the other part of him knows that the more he represses this, the more it’ll bubble over like some sick emotional volcano. So, he eases himself into it, telling lies to soften the blow. 

“How is your sister?” he asks. 

“JiWoo? She looked traumatized,” Wonwoo answers, still swinging. He thinks back on the delayed message his sister sent that appeared later on after getting home, updating her brother that she bumped into Mingyu at the park and was on her way to eat lunch at his place. He pauses, his feet digging into the dirt to stop his momentum. “What happened?” And unable to take it any longer, Mingyu spills. 

Mingyu has always known that his heart does the thinking and speaking, an emotional wave of words as he breaks himself up into little pieces, laying them bare. If he doesn’t talk, the thing will consume him, and he’ll forget who he even is. Grief has always been a powerful emotion - one that festers like an open wound if not tended to. 

When he finishes, WonWoo looks at him with the gentle sincerity, one that melts Mingyu. “It isn’t your fault,” he says, tapping the metal chain in three-second beats. “JiWoo… She doesn’t cope with death very well. Not since our grandma passed away six years ago - um, it was sudden, and she was the one who found our grandma.” Wonwoo looks down, his messy black hair falling over his eyes. Mingyu doesn’t respond, not sure what to say at first. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he finally utters. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. But I get it, I mean, my little sister is only six, but things like that are just so traumatizing.” 

“Yeah, well, you end up coping with it in any way you can.” Wonwoo stares upwards into the sky, sighing. “I didn’t know your sister was so young. That’s like, fourteen years apart.” 

Mingyu chuckles, well aware of the age difference, occasionally being asked by curious people whenever the two walk out. “Yeah, my mom had me young, then she met my stepmom in Naples, and yeah, that’s why there’s such an age difference.” 

“But your sister is staying with you and not your parents?” 

Mingyu nervously laughs this time, deciding to tell Wonwoo the story behind why Gigi is at his small ass apartment instead of being at home in Naples. (Mainly, it’s because his biological mother didn’t know about it, and well, threatened to beat up his stepmother if Gigi didn’t stay with Mingyu. It’s all weird and loving in a way). Wonwoo blinks, staring at him, all while wondering what Mingyu Kim’s life is all about. Is it a soap opera or something? Who knows at this point. 

“It’s weird,” Mingyu deadpans. “But I really like it. It keeps life interesting.” He hops off the swing, feeling lighter than before. His burden isn’t gone, no, but at least he doesn’t feel like exploding into a million little pieces. He flashes Wonwoo a grin before making the bold choice of grabbing the older man and pulling him into a massive hug. The smell of orchids fills the baker’s senses, and suddenly he gets the idea to make an orchid flavoured dessert. 

“Um,” Wonwoo says, hugging Mingyu back. “What is this for? Why are we hugging?” 

“Just… Thank you,” Mingyu replies, letting the older go. His heart thuds wildly in his chest, well aware of what he did. His cheeks are heating up from that sudden leap of faith, but thanks to the nippy weather, he can say it’s because of the cold. He dips his head, mumbling a hurried ‘Goodnight’ before dashing off, embarrassed by the entire interaction. What he doesn’t notice is the hint of a smile lingering on Wonwoo’s face - one that suggests endearment as he watches the taller run away.

* * *

The next time JiWoo opens her eyes, she can see it’s nightfall outside her bedroom window with the moonlight peeking in through her blackout curtains. She must’ve fallen asleep for a few hours and wonders if she woke up or not? So she tries to move. She nearly hits herself in the face with her fist when she expected to feel heavy and paralyzed. Instead, her body feels as light as a feather. Her throat is sore and parched as she rolls off her bed and stumbles to her door, ripping it open, the doorknob slamming against the door stopper. Staggering out of her room, she glances down the hallway and makes her way to her brother’s shared room only to find it empty. When she tries to speak, her voice gets stuck in her throat, causing her to panic from the mere thought that she’s lost her voice forever.  _ Why can’t I speak? Did I not wake up?  _

She grips onto the doorframe for leverage to help her turn around, her body doesn’t feel as light anymore, and it’s a struggle to walk a straight line. Her head is spinning, but she can’t stop moving, or else  _ it _ might find her again. She needs to find her brother. He’ll protect her, right? Or Jihoon… he’ll make sure she’s safe, he always has. Her vision starts to get blurry, darkness clouding it as she makes a last-ditch effort to walk towards Jihoon’s shared room. The door’s cracked open, indicating he’s home. She falls against the door, causing it to swing open, and she goes falling face-first onto the carpet, scaring the living daylight out of a very focused Jihoon at his home studio and Soonyoung, who was lying in bed, browsing on his phone. 

The two adults scramble to their feet and rush to the fallen JiWoo, calling out to her as they carefully pick her up, resting her upper body on Soonyoung’s lap. She’s unresponsive when asking her what’s wrong, a look of fear frozen on her face. Jihoon immediately calls Wonwoo to tell him to get his ass home as soon as possible as Soonyoung stays on the floor with her, making sure she’s still breathing, and her heart is still beating. They have no clue what’s wrong with her, not until they know all the symptoms of her condition. 

“Is she sick?” Jihoon frowns, trying to crack the difficult code while they wait for Wonwoo to return. He checks her forehead for a fever, but she’s cold and clammy. They can see the colour from her face has drained, her lips dry, and on the verge of cracking. 

“She must be dehydrated, go get her some water!” Soonyoung instructs. Jihoon books it out of the room and returns in half a minute with a cold water bottle. They sit her up so she can take a drink. When she doesn’t take it, Soonyoung presses the cold bottle to her cheek, as if to snap her out of her daze. That’s when she finally responds, and the two let out a sigh of relief as she accepts the bottle and takes small sips. Jihoon reaches out to push stray strands of her hair out of her face, noting she broke out into a cold sweat. 

“JiWoo,” he mutters. “What happened? Are you okay?” JiWoo doesn’t reply, her words getting caught in her throat, sticking to the walls like they’re covered in glue. Her mouth opens to say something, but emptiness comes out. Instead, a blackened goo dripping down her chin and onto the floor, she feels like a neon demon, sitting in front of her two roommates. When she doesn’t move nor respond, Soonyoung takes it upon himself to carry her back to her room so she can rest. JiWoo wraps her arms around the dancer’s neck, as if telling him not to leave her alone.  _ There’s a demon lingering under the bed, can’t you see him?  _ Alas, it doesn’t seem like he does as Soonyoung tucks her into bed while brushing back strands of damp hair. 

“You need lots of sleep in order to get better,” Soonyoung says, making sure she’s comfortable in her bed. As he does so, he misses the way JiWoo’s eyes widened in horror. The little boy from her nightmares comes crawling towards her, his eyes missing as he draws near. 

“ **_Give them back. My eyes... give them back_ ** .” She almost grabs onto Soonyoung as he leaves but just misses it by a millimeter, the door to her bedroom closing behind him. When she looks back, the little boy is gone, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be back. All she can do is hide under the covers and pray that nothing will attack her tonight. 

Soonyoung silently returns to his shared bedroom, seeing Jihoon still on the floor, unmoving. His face twists into a look of utter confusion as he tries to process everything he’s seen. But nothing seems to make any sense, at least not in his mind. What is happening? Why is she suddenly scared to be on her own? Jihoon furrows his eyebrows, lost in thought when a series of three knocks on his bedroom door startles the pair out of the deep crevasses of the mind. Wonwoo pokes his head in before pushing through, his hand on their eldest roommate’s wrist as he quietly closes the door. 

“What’s going on here, mates?” Junhui asks, sitting on the plush carpet. “Why are you all looking blue?” 

“There’s something wrong with JiWoo,” Soonyoung blurts out, ignoring the glare Jihoon shoots at him. “She’s, like, catatonic or possessed.” 

“I don’t think she’s possessed,” Jihoon inputs, but it’s too late; Junhui already believes whatever bullshit is coming out of Soonyoung’s mouth. It takes all of Jihoon’s willpower not to smack himself on the forehead, all while Wonwoo watches with a hint of amusement on his lips. It’s like he enjoys the playful banter before laying down the truth on everyone. Which is sadistic on Wonwoo’s part, but Jihoon won’t deny how funny it can be. That is until Junhui is seriously planning to call a priest to help with the exorcism. 

“No one is getting exorcised,” Wonwoo firmly states, sitting down on Jihoon’s well-made bed. “She’s… suffering from trauma.” When he has everyone’s attention, he proceeds to vomit up everything Mingyu told him, word for word. There are varying degrees of expressions on each of his roommates’ faces, but each one rings one emotion, one of horror. No one should ever have to see someone die so quickly in front of them, and yet, Wonwoo’s baby sister has. 

“I just…” Wonwoo says, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do. These aren’t things you can just  _ get over _ .” 

“No one should have to get over death,” Soonyoung says with as much sympathy in his voice as someone can when being told about such an ordeal. “I think all we can do is support her, you know? Be here for her and remind her she’s not alone.” The other two roommates nod in agreement; each one is planning to help Wonwoo through such a difficult time in his life. Not once has he ever questioned his actions, being headstrong and independent. But now, he’s not sure where he stands. It feels like he’s standing on thin ice, and he’s just waiting for everything to collapse under him.  __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share your theories in the comments below. Don't be shy, I love them. 
> 
> Hoseok is Monsta X's Wonho! :D   
> Also also, what happened to Mingyu and who is the second document about? Find out on the next installment of Dragon-- I mean, Extra Ordinary!


	14. I Only Have Eyes For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [I Only Have Eyes For You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_urvud-Oi0&ab_channel=TheFlamingos-Topic) ny The Flamingos 
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone! For your gift we offer 3 chapters! Two today and one tomorrow~ 
> 
> Also, Seventeen Crossing: Going is our version of Animal Crossing (a game I love). I literally bought a 3DS for Animal Crossing.

It’s three am on a Sunday morning when Wonwoo is startled awake. The feeling of a small cold hand gripping onto his shoulder nearly makes his heart stop as they shake him by his shoulder. The sound of sniffling tells him they’re crying. His eyes shoot wide open and he turns his head to see his sister standing by his bedside, visibly shaking and upset. He sits up and reaches out for her, making her sit down while he wraps his arm around her shoulder and rubs her arm, quietly asking if something’s wrong. All she can do is hand him her little memo pad she’s brought with the words written: _I’m scared. I can’t sleep. Help._

Though, Wonwoo doesn’t have a clue on how he can help her. It breaks his heart, knowing there’s nothing he can do other than physically be here for her. But it’s going to be complicated later when he has to leave for school, he can’t merely ditch despite his reasons being valid, he can’t bring her to the campus either knowing she won’t want to leave the safety of her room. He knows it probably took a lot of courage to leave her room just now to come and find him. 

Because he doesn’t want to disturb Junhui, he suggests they go back to her room where he encourages her to lie down. He lies in bed with her so she doesn’t get even more anxious. Usually, it’s the other way around, with JiWoo helping Wonwoo to stay grounded, to help keep his mind calm and peaceful. It’s a challenge now to do that for his traumatized sister. He doesn’t know the first thing to do but does his best to think about what his therapist has taught him. 

After a few moments of thinking, he turns to see his sister missing from her bed and freezes. He sits up and looks around her room, noting the door is still shut, so it’s not like she left for water, her bathroom door is still open. Even if they’re siblings, they most definitely do not use the bathroom with the door open when they’re in each other’s presence. So where the hell did she disappear off to? Unless it’s just him and he can’t see (granted he does have his glasses off)? He quietly gets out of bed and returns to his room (and bumps into the wall at least two hundred times on the way there) and grabs his glasses off his nightstand like he should have in the first place before leaving the room. He returns to JiWoo’s room and looks around, calling out her name quietly. _Where did she go?_

He decides to take a look in the kitchen, nothing. The living room. Nothing. Well, where else could JiWoo be? He glances at the locked front door. Her shoes are still on the shoe rack unless she went out barefoot? He debates in his head for a moment if he should go down to the lobby and ask if anyone saw her leave? So he does. When he’s told they didn’t see anyone walk out in the last hour, he slowly starts to panic. He hurries back up to the apartment and shakes Junhui awake. “Jun, Jun, Jun,” he nearly shouts, panic rising in his voice. Actually, WonWoo doesn’t care if he’ll wake everyone in this apartment building up. His precious little uwu is missing dammit!

“What is it, mate!?” Junhui manages to sit up and rubs his sleepy eyes. He gets a glimpse of the time. “What’s wrong? It’s bloody three am!” 

“Sorry! Sorry! But my sister missing, can’t find her!” Wonwoo frantically says while pulling his roommate out of bed, desperate. 

“Can you calm down!? You’re about to rip my arm off!” Junhui whimpers, pulling his arm away from Wonwoo’s death grip. “I’ll help you, just give me a minute, alright? What use will you be if you’re panicking?” Wonwoo simply stands there, trying to calm himself with the breathing techniques Minhyun taught him. He tells himself that they’ll find her, it’s just a matter of time. Once Junhui is more awake and alert, Wonwoo leads him to his sister’s bedroom and explains what happened before she disappeared. 

“Didn’t hear or see her leave. Doors were shut, front lobby say they didn’t see her leave building either!” 

“You think she just up and vanished?” Junhui frowns, wondering if that’s even possible. Well, the fact contractors also exist, anything is possible, right? “Maybe she’s playing hide and seek?” Wonwoo punches Junhui in the arm with a sharp glare.

“You think now the time to be joking?”

“Relax! What if it’s true? Maybe she’s hiding from someone or something?” Junhui defends, thinking it’s very plausible, especially after a traumatic event.

“What’s this, a fucking horror film?” Perhaps it is, and this is only just the beginning. 

“Well, think about it, what happened to her was pretty traumatizing. Maybe she’s hiding under the bed?” Junhui says while getting down on his hands and knees, taking a look-see for himself. What he sees might as well be straight out of a horror film indeed. There’s a little boy with two big black holes for eyes staring right back at him. “Jesus Christ! What in the bloody hell!?” Junhui backs away, jumping up and rushing to hide behind WonWoo.

“What!?” Wonwoo asks. 

“There’s definitely someone under the bed but it’s not your sister!” He stumbles over his words just as they see something crawl out from under the bed. Both Wonwoo and Junhui stand there in utter fear as they watch this creepy dead little boy climb up onto JiWoo’s bed, crawling over and sitting down where WonWoo last saw his sister. The haunting sound of the little boy’s voice saying, “I can see you” despite having no eyes due to being pecked out by crows sends a cold chill up their spines. 

Suddenly, the sight of JiWoo starts to flicker back into existence, as if she casted an invisible spell upon herself and it’s now wearing off. They can see her sitting up with her knees pulled up against her chest, her arms over her head like she’s trying to protect herself, blocking out her hearing and her vision. She’s shaking violently the more the boy inches closer towards her. Junhui isn’t sure how to help in this situation unless he wants to expose himself to WonWoo that he’s a contractor. Same goes for Wonwoo, how can he save his sister without blowing their well-kept secrets? They can’t simply call 911 when they know no ordinary police force can do a thing about it. And with the idea that this is a contractor related issue, they figure it out. It isn’t real. This is merely a haunting _illusion_.

“JiWoo, snap out of it!” Wonwoo calls out, trying to approach her, but his brain tells him to stay away. It’s hard to disconnect the visual of the creepy little boy taunting his sister. Fortunately, Junhui steps forward and manages to reach out, touching JiWoo’s arm and gently tries to shake her out of it. It doesn’t work at first until he thinks of utilizing his ice manipulation power, cooling down his hand and touching her cheek. Just like that, the illusion breaks into a million little pieces, the haunting little boy vanishes with it, and JiWoo is left there, stunned with wide eyes. 

“Can you hear me, love?” he asks, keeping his hand on her cheek while his thumb makes gentle strokes over her soft skin. “It’s gone now. You’re okay.” They watch her distant look break when her eyes dart around like she’s finally coming to. “There, there, it’s alright now,” he says softly when her eyes well up with tears. She leans into his cold hand, her warm tears emitting small wisps of steam when they roll over his skin. 

Wonwoo lets out a sigh of relief, but the feeling doesn’t last long when he realizes now his sister has possibly developed a new power. He supposes it was bound to happen given he developed two by the time he was out of high school. He’s not really sure if he’ll develop more later on, but from what little research there is about it, most contractors end up with two abilities, while some only develop one. There’s a theory that the majority of the time it stems off of traumatic experiences unless you’re just one unlucky soul. Who experiences multiple tragedies? That’s not to say it will manifest from just any tragedy; otherwise, Wonwoo would have hundreds of powers by now. Thank god he doesn’t. 

Junhui helps lull JiWoo to sleep with a Chinese lullaby he used to sing his brother back in China. It works like a charm and JiWoo is out by the end of the song, sound asleep while clutching a kitten plushie he materialized when Wonwoo wasn’t looking. The two adults leave the room to let her sleep in peace. WonWoo is hopeful that she won’t suffer any nightmares or night terrors once they leave, though it’ll be difficult for him to fall asleep with his worried thoughts. 

After returning to their shared room, they sit in tense and awkward silence for a bit until Wonwoo comments on Junhui’s singing, causing the older to get flustered suddenly. It’s only now that the younger realizes how much things are changing. Junhui is the first to speak after a short while. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.” Wonwoo isn’t sure what he’s talking about first until a few seconds later. 

“Yeah, please don’t.” He thinks he can trust Junhui. After the way he saw him comfort his sister, he can be trusted, right? “Sorry about this.” 

“No worries, mate!” Junhui says with a smile. “Glad I could help!” There’s not a lot left to say after that, so Junhui suggests Wonwoo go back to sleep before his nine am class later. As for Junhui, he’s just getting an early start to his day, given he usually wakes up at five am to get ready for work, so he does just that. Not before he does some unnecessary online shopping and eats a whole lemon, that is. 

He inhales sharply, feeling the acidic juice coat his tongue as he chews quietly on his lemon (yes, he’s very aware of how strange that is but Junhui has always been a strange person). He swallows the bitterness down as he thinks about how caring WonWoo is towards his little sister which makes Junhui think about his own brother - back in China. How many years has it been since they last saw each other, in person not through a phone screen. 

Junhui can’t seem to remember. He knows he can count the amount of times he has held his brother on one hand. (It’s only once, when Mochou was born.) Envy surges upwards, latching onto Junhui like a demon to its prey. He knows better than to feel jealous of someone else’s relationship but yet, that familiar, icy cold loneliness creeps back in. 

A part of him yearns for that close bond all siblings have. Another reminds him that sibling bonds are not required when you’re running a million dollar company. And yet, Junhui craves human touch - it might be why he’s using Minghao. It’s toxic, he’s aware but he can’t stop it. Sex is like a drug to Junhui, something he desperately needs in order to stay sane. 

It’s an endless cycle of desire then feeling horribly guilty over using someone for selfish desires. Eventually, his selfishness will drive the one person who had extended a kind hand towards him. _Maybe it’s better to push him away_. But the thought of him pushing Minghao away because Junhui is too much of a coward to face heartbreak, creates a sour taste in his mouth. Like bile, slithering down his throat. It burns but maybe this is what he deserves. 

Maybe he deserves the pain for using people like they mean _nothing_ to him. He doesn’t head back to bed, instead he watches the sun come up. Shining brightly over a grey city. 

* * *

The final tupperware container sits snugly inside Mingyu’s massive tote bag that he got from one of the ladies in his knitting club - a sweet old lady who loves it whenever Mingyu visits with food, which reminds him to make some time in his schedule to drop by. He hikes it over his shoulder and grabs his car keys, looking over his shoulder as he checks if he’s forgotten anything. No one wants a repeat of last time where Mingyu, somehow, forgot his wallet at one of the many local farmer’s markets within the surrounding area. The trio spent the better part of an afternoon hunting it down only to find it deep within Mingyu’s coat pocket. 

“Hurry up, Mingyu,” Minghao shouts from the hallway. “You’re not getting any younger by just standing in there!” 

“Shut it, Hao!” Mingyu shouts back, slipping on his sneakers and locking the door behind him. “Why can’t you be like the cute kid from Anshan who barely knew English? I miss him.” 

Minghao looks the taller square in the eye and deadpans, “You were the one who taught me all the curse words.” 

“Mom, dad,” Seokmin says, holding Gigi on his back as the little girl stares ahead. “Don’t fight.” The two in the front roll their eyes while Mingyu is making sure the door is locked before the quartet mosies on down to the car. The ride there is silent but not awkward - not when the radio is blaring, and Gigi and Seokmin are quietly playing patty-cake in the backseat. Overall, it just feels right, even if a tragedy happened in their apartment. But when they get up to the seventeenth floor of Home Apartments, the atmosphere drastically changes - it feels more suffocating than in the car. 

At least it does to Seokmin but neither Mingyu or Minghao seem to notice it, the taller of the group knocking on the oak door. Wonwoo answers the door looking worse for wear, his hair is sticking upwards, and there are heavy bags under his eyes from a long sleepless night of trying to comfort his sister. He blinks languidly at the group before him, not recognizing any of them before stepping back and allowing them in. Immediately, after throwing off her Mary Janes, Gigi hurries up the long stairs towards JiWoo’s bedroom, calling to the teenager that she’s on her way to cuddle her. 

“Oh, sorry,” Wonwoo says, hurrying up after the little girl, wondering how Gigi even knows where his sister’s room is. “JiWoo isn’t seeing anyone right now.” 

“But, she is sad,” Gigi pitifully replies, as if that will allow WonWoo to let her in. But he doesn’t, so out of spite she just sits outside of the door, playing by herself with the rubix cube she brought with her. Wonwoo looks exasperated but chooses not to do anything. For a moment, he’s reminded of his sister when she was that small, granted she didn’t dress up like a gothic lolita doll, but she could be stubborn like Mingyu’s sister as well. It was always adorable, but in this case, it’s tugging at his heartstrings. He blinks back the urge to cry, knowing he has guests to tend to and returns to the sofa. 

“Who are you guys?” he blurts out, recalling he saw Mingyu enter with them, so they must be his friends. 

“Minghao,” the man with the mullet says, lifting a hand in greeting. “This is Seokmin.” Wonwoo stares at the man with sharpened features sitting on the edge of the sofa. He’s hunched over as if trying to make himself smaller than he actually is. It takes a moment for Wonwoo to admit that Seokmin is real. So for two years, Soonyoung hadn’t been lying. God, he feels like such an asshole for doubting his friend. 

“Hi, I’m Wonwoo.” He holds out his hand for the pair, Minghao takes it while Seokmin doesn’t. “So, um, why are you here?” 

“Mingyu made too much food,” Seokmin replies, still not looking Wonwoo in the eye, instead of focusing on one of the many books Wonwoo has laid out on the coffee table. One of which seems to catch his attention as his eyes linger on it a bit too long before jerking to another title. “And Minghao was worried about your younger sister.” 

“I’m being exposed,” Minghao deadpans, no maliciousness lingering in his words. Rather, it’s more teasing - friendly without poison lining the undertones of his words. Unlike how Wonwoo and Soonyoung are right now, bitterness seeps through their pores. It hadn’t always been like this - they’re not trying to undermine the other. Wonwoo can just blame it on stress, but he knows it isn’t fully that. “But it is true.” Minghao’s voice brings Wonwoo out of his thoughts as he hears Mingyu rummaging in the kitchen. “I am worried about your sister.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes then narrows when a realization hits him. “Wait,” he says. “How do you _know_ my sister?” Wonwoo, as creepy as it’ll sound, does keep a small list of people his sister knows (which is locked in a secure hard-drive with an extremely complicated password). Call him paranoid, but he’s just doing it so his sister is safe - you never know who is lurking under the mask of normality. Hell, Ted Bundy and Jeffery Dahmer looked normal on the outside while they committed one of the most horrific crimes in history. So, forgive Wonwoo for feeling a bit protective of his precious baby sister. 

Minghao blinks. “She was over at my apartment when that whole…” Unable to form words, he just waves his hand in the air as if that helps Wonwoo piece together whatever the fuck happened. “Yeah. That.” Minghao lets out a noise of frustration as he struggles to put his thoughts into words. Wonwoo doesn’t respond, knowing how hard words can sometimes be, and judging by the slightly heavy accent in Minghao’s words, it’s safe to assume that he’s in the same boat as Wonwoo. Translating words from their mother tongue into English is ten times harder since English words don’t sound anywhere close to being how they’re spelled. 

“She’s… dealing with it,” is all Wonwoo can say about the situation. What else is he supposed to say? She’s having a difficult time talking about it since she decided to shut down mentally? No, he’s not telling complete strangers (that he hasn’t done a legal background check on) the mental state of his younger sister. He’s crazy, but he’s not that crazy. 

“That’s good. I’m glad she’s somewhat coping with it.” Minghao has a tight-lipped smile on him. “It’s not something you can really—” He turns to Seokmin and mutters something in heavily accented Korean, to which Seokmin whispers the correct word back. “Recover from.” Minghao turns to thank his friend shortly after.

Wonwoo blinks, unsure if he should switch to Korean because it’s more comfortable for him. But, judging by the rough way Minghao speaks it’s clear he doesn’t know it very well either. Wonwoo turns to Seokmin, “Can you translate for me? My English isn’t the best.” Seokmin stares back, nibbling on his lower lip as his eyes shift nervously. 

“My concentration isn’t the best,” Seokmin explains, playing with a loose piece of thread on his army jacket. “You should ask Mingyu to help.” 

“Did someone say my name?” Mingyu asks, popping into the living room and taking a seat next to Wonwoo. The taller man loops an arm around Wonwoo’s skinnier body, grinning at his roommates. “I feel like Batman now.” 

“It’s a shame you’re not as useful,” Minghao remarks, snickering when Mingyu shoots him a glare. 

Wonwoo turns to Mingyu (while trying to ignore how perfect his body fits into Mingyu’s), “You know Korean? I thought you’re from Italy.” 

“My biological mom is Korean,” Mingyu explains, grinning as Seokmin sighs in relief. Thank god, he doesn’t have to translate because he’s sure he won’t be able to keep up. Right on cue, Wonwoo starts talking in rapid Korean, his words sounding like a rap song instead of a cohesive sentence. Seokmin is struggling to keep up in his mother tongue, let alone translate everything. His head is spinning from the information overload, causing him to space out. He does hope JiWoo is okay, but he’s unable to say anything to help her feel better. 

He’s not even sure what he can say to make Minghao feel better, who has seen scarier shit than either of them. As Seokmin spaces out, Mingyu is working hard, translating everything Wonwoo says to Minghao, who nods in compassion. He, too, knows what it’s like to lose someone suddenly. 

“They say that it will get better with time,” Minghao says, looking at his hands. “But does it ever?” He smiles sadly, before off-handedly mentioning how he should get to work, getting up first and leaving. A second later, Junhui walks through the door, gives a curt nod to Mingyu and Seokmin before disappearing up to his room. A part of Wonwoo wonders if he should check on his friend but another knows how rude that is. 

“We should get going too,” Mingyu says, standing up. Seokmin lets out an audible sigh of relief, scrambling up. “Sorry about him,” Mingyu whispers to WonWoo. “He’s going through some stuff and things like this exhausts him.” Wonwoo nods, well aware of how draining social interactions can be. Mingyu hurries up the stairs to grab his now sleeping sister from JiWoo’s door. Wonwoo lets them out and sinks down onto the floor. At this moment, he can fall asleep right there and then; but forces himself to stay strong. For JiWoo’s sake. What’s the point of being alive if you can’t protect the ones you love? He grabs three books from the coffee table before making his way up to JiWoo’s bedroom door and plants his butt down in front of it and proceeds to read. It’s something to pass time while he waits for his sister to hopefully come out of her room to eat; dinner is getting cold after all. 

* * *

The first thing Jeonghan says to Junhui, at nine in the morning - on a Monday no less - is, “You look like shit.” Junhui blinks at him, unable to comprehend a word his boss means as Jeonghan fires off a million and one questions as the Chinese man tries his best to do his work. It honestly feels like he’s walking through jello, and the jello monster that lives in the jello is sucking on his brain. But there’s just so much to do that he can’t stop to breathe correctly. Sometimes it sucks being someone who is never satisfied with the work they’ve done - it’s not perfectionism (well it kind of is) but it’s more of feeling okay with the outcome instead of focusing on the flaws. Junhui is honestly envious of people who can do that. Nitpicking is just so easy to do compared to being satisfied. 

“You should go home,” Jeonghan says, putting his hand on Junhui’s shoulders. “Seriously, you look like you’re going to faint at any second now.” 

“I’m fine,” Junhui says, his voice raspy from coughing his lungs out earlier. “Really, let me finish this deal, and I’ll take it easy from then on.” Jeonghan doesn’t look convinced, and really, he shouldn’t. Junhui isn’t fooling anyone, not even himself. When he’s done this deal, there will be another one then another, and soon, he’ll drown in contracts and negotiations. But this one, this one that he’s heading towards is the one he doesn’t want to fuck up. Not when it could put the whole company above their competitors. Good to Me is already dipping their toes into Asia, but it’s only through superstar Ren (which reminds Junhui that he needs to review the agreements set out by Ren’s manager before sending it to Jeonghan). But if Junhui can secure a deal with one of the largest music companies in Korea, then it’ll be all worth it. 

Nevermind the major deals he managed to secure in France, Italy, and Britain. None of that seems to matter even if Europe happens to be Good to Me's biggest consumer. He just doesn’t want to let Jeonghan down, not when the elder took him under his wing without a second thought. 

“Junnie,” Jeonghan says. “We both know that’s not going to happen. You’re too worked up and stressed all the time. When was the last time you had some time to yourself?” 

“But… You wanted to…” Junhui replies, his words coming out like word salad, nothing makes sense. He’s speaking incoherently. “I just thought—” 

“I can handle the Love Paints Productions meeting. I speak Korean in case you forgot, and I’ll make sure to message you what happens.” Jeonghan takes the iPad away from Junhui as if scared the younger will somehow run away with it. Even if Junhui is in no condition to run anyways, but that isn’t the point. Without the iPad, he feels a bit naked. “Now, go home and sleep and get better, I need my best speaker for when everything is finalized.” He gives Junhui a firm pat on the back, forcing him out of the office and down the lobby out the front doors - all with his briefcase and coat. 

When Junhui gets home, his bones feel like they’ve grounded up into dust. His vision blurs as his throat burns from inhaling too hard. Chucking his coat and briefcase over onto the sofa, Junhui makes his way to the kitchen - attempting to boil tea for himself (which proves to be a disastrous idea and should never be attempted while suffering delirium) before abandoning that idea and heading to his room. The bedroom is silent, an indication that WonWoo is out for the day and Junhui is, for once, grateful for the silence. His head feels like it’s been run over by a billion cement trucks. 

Slowly, he changes into his sleepwear, being wary about his aching muscles and wobbly stance. All before he collapses into bed, eyes fluttering closed within seconds. 

_The smell of summer lingers in the air as eighteen-year-old Junhui steps off the plane from London, England, and into Anshan, China. The air smells different than it does in London - instead of the sad smell of rain, it feels like life; the various spices (not as much as Shenzhen of course) combined, creating a sense of home. One Junhui desperately misses but how can someone miss something that never existed in the first place? It’s one of life’s many mysteries that no one seems to have an answer to. Regardless, he steps into the humid air, feeling his clothes stick to skin. Amongst the many people milling around the crowded airport, Junhui realizes how overdressed he is. With his pale pink button-down shirt and light khaki chinos, he looks far too proper to really be here on vacation. Plus, with the unbearable heat coming down on him, he feels like he’s about to suffocate._

_So, he heads into the bathroom to change out of his button-down and into a simple t-shirt that won’t cause him immense stress or heatstroke. The sun is high in the sky when he finally walks out of the airport and into the city. Like the rest of China, smog covers part of the sky - a common sight when exploring the busy cities. But to Junhui it reminds him of home, reminds him of all the things he longs for in life. London was often covered in grey skies, and he was the most at home there._

_Hiking up his backpack and with no destination in mind, he heads towards the bus stop. The people around whispers like he’s an anomaly, but he’s learned to pay no mind to those kinds of people. Not if you’re going to hold your head high - little comments like that will only bring you down. Hence why Junhui holds onto a sense of false pride with such force that he sometimes can convince himself that he’s the person he’s not. Honestly, it has to be some kind of skill to do something like that._

_He hums a familiar Chinese song, one he likes to sing to himself whenever he’s feeling particularly sad or stressed. The sadness of his parents not showing up to his graduation gnaws at his insides, painfully chewing on his heart and stomach as he waits for the bus to arrive. A part of him wants to confront his parents about missing such a prestigious ceremony in Junhui’s life. Another just wants to forget about it all and move on. It’s a painful limbo to be trapped in, both sides wanting so much but not being sure on how to appease both._

_The bus arrives fifteen minutes later, and Junhui climbs on, taking a seat at the very back of the bus. His head rests against the grimy bus window, looking out at the people milling around the city streets. But with the warm sun beating down on him and the cold air conditioning of the bus, combined with his lack of sleep, it’s a wonder how Junhui managed to stay awake for nearly twenty-four hours. He falls asleep to the quiet rumble of the bus and doesn’t wake up until he hears the driver say,_ “Last stop.” _Groggily he stumbles out of the bus and into the slums of Anshan._

_One can say it’s naive to have not noticed the metallic smell of blood or wince whenever a gang member blows a cloud of smoke into your face. But Junhui Wen has never been someone who cares enough to let such inconveniences hold him back. In fact, he takes them at face value and continues to walk forward, ignoring the way gang members stare at him like he’s gone mad. It’s a different kind of experience for Junhui as he casually strolls through the slums, his mind and eyes taking in all the sights, his nose taking in all the smells and his ears taking in all the sounds that surround him._

“You’re going to get robbed if you keep walking like that,” _a skinny boy with a hood over his head says, in his left arm hangs a plastic bag just dangling in the wind. The setting sun illuminates the gaunt look the boy has, but it doesn’t take away the sharpness of his eyes, nor does it remove the frown of his lips. Oddly enough, Junhui finds him ethereal. Starstruck by a person who doesn’t speak in a slurred British accent but in Mandarin - the language he grew up hearing._

“Walking like what?” _Junhui replies. Is there a particular way to walk in this city?_

“Walking like you’re a tourist.” _The boy walks over and stares at him, a sweet potato hidden in his hoodie._ “You’ll get robbed in this area. Where are you going?” 

“Anywhere,” _he answers, a soft smile decorating his face._ “Anywhere you’re willing to take me.” _The boy thinks about it for a moment, perhaps stunned by Junhui’s carefree nature but he’s here on a getaway, going anywhere is the fun of it all. Swallowing a bit of the sweet potato, the boy holds out his plastic bag, motioning towards it with his head. Junhui hesitates, a tad unsure of what he means until the boy stuffs the potato into his mouth and uses his free hand to hold Junhui’s wrist, shoving the older’s arm into the plastic bag._

 _The first thing Junhui could feel is cold - everything in the bag is cold. The second thing he feels is a wrapper, and without giving it a second thought, he grabs hold of whatever the frozen stuff is and pulls out. A yogurt flavoured ice cream bar lies in his hands, and the boy gives him a massive grin._ “You got the best flavour.” _Then, the boy motions for Junhui to follow, and like a baby duckling to its mother, Junhui follows, unwrapping the ice cream bar and relishing in the cold that follows._

“Wait,” _Junhui says a couple of seconds into the walk._ “What’s your name? Forgive me, I suppose it’s rude to not introduce myself first. I’m Wen Junhui.” 

“Xu Minghao,” _the boy replies, tearing open a pack of soybean milk with his teeth and taking the first box out._

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Please, the pleasure is all mine.” 

* * *

Joshua is bored, well, rather, that’s incorrect. There’s never really a dull moment at the cafe, not when he’s supervising San, who really enjoys mopping for some unknown reason, and balancing cheques. Honestly, Joshua’s job keeps him on his toes constantly; yet, today he isn’t sure why he’s feeling so antsy. Like he’s a dying animal, eager to escape the clutches of a mundane routine. If Joshua were to look back on his life and what he has accomplished so far as a post-graduate, he’d tell you that there’s nothing worth bragging about. Not even his bachelor's degree in criminal psychology. 

Sighing, he resumes counting the total transactions so far. Perhaps that’s the only small enjoyment he has in his ordinary and boring life. God, he sounds like one of those old balding geezers who’s going through a midlife crisis; minus the fact that he isn’t old nor is he balding. 

“San,” Joshua calls, stopping the new guy from his very intense mopping. He looks up, eyes hovering between fear and excited anticipation - a very odd combination indeed and for a moment, Joshua freezes. It’s like he’s seen those eyes before, but for the life of him couldn’t pinpoint where. “Ah…” He clears his throat. “Do you plan on working here for the rest of your life?” 

San tilts his head, perplexed by the sudden philosophical question. It’s like a child being told two different things from the same person - it’s confusing and very frightening for him. “I don’t understand,” San replies, his grip on the mop tightening. “You aren’t going to punish me? I stopped my initial task.” 

“I… Wait, what?” Joshua’s eyes grow wide before he furrows his eyebrows together. _Punishment?_ What the heck is he even talking about? Discipline, yes - only if San did something wrong; which he hasn’t. But there’s no punishment. “No, no! I was… Ah, never mind. It’s okay.” San merely blinks before returning to his mopping duties as he does, Joshua could hear a childish tune being hummed. As the elder is about to return to his managerial responsibilities, the bell lets out a cheery little _Ding,_ snapping his head up. 

“Boss,” San says from where he stands; watching his helpless, love-sick assistant manager freeze up. “Your ‘soulmate’ is here. Are you two going to do soulmate things?” 

“Yes, my lovely soulmate,” Jeonghan says, leaning against the spotless counter. His finger gently brushes a stray strand of hair out of Joshua’s eyes. Just the mere touch of the older’s finger, a simple graze, has Joshua’s heart soaring into the sky and exploding into confetti. God, he is so hopeless sometimes whenever the blond man comes by. “Are we going to do soulmate things?” 

Joshua swallows, suddenly remembering how to talk. _Get a grip, man!_ his mind yells at him. But it’s hard to do when you are built awkwardly like Joshua Hong is - slightly awkward with a facade of a gentleman. “Um… And what might those be?” he asks, a little scared of the answer that might follow. Luckily, it isn’t Jeonghan who answers but San - and honestly, Joshua isn’t sure which answer he would’ve preferred. 

“Like… plan world domination together,” San states bluntly. “Or, as Master Kyungsoo said, ‘make love like the fluffy oversized coneys in the forest.’” Then the kid smiles so innocently that Joshua finds it hard to scold him for repeating what Kyungsoo said (especially when it involves the talk of sex). 

“I’ll skip on the whole ‘world domination’ part, thanks. But the second part.” Jeonghan smirks, sending pleasant shivers down Joshua’s spine. “I can do, but only if my soulmate agrees.” The pair looks at Joshua, waiting for him to make a choice. The pressure weighs heavily on his shoulders, but in a moment of rationality, he could only think of one thing that would smooth over this embarrassing conversation. 

“I will, one day, only when we make things official,” he finally says, his cheeks heating up at his own words. How embarrassing. He lowers his head onto the cash register, hoping for a massive hole to appear and swallow him whole. But that doesn’t happen; instead, he smells the fruity scent of Jeonghan’s cologne and the softness of the other’s lips against his blushing cheek. Looking up, he sees Jeonghan’s smiling face - not smirking like he expected it to be, but rather a genuine, soft smile. The kind Joshua saw at the diner a few weeks back, the look of fondness. 

“If you wanted it to be official,” Jeonghan whispers huskily into Joshua’s ear. “You could’ve said something.” If Joshua could explode into flames, he would, considering how Jeonghan makes him feel. It feels like a firebomb is exploding within him, burning him from the inside out. He feels his stomach flipping around like fish out of water. Is this reality or is this some fantasy Joshua’s bored mind came up with? 

“I… Is this real?” Joshua dumbly asks, his head feeling like it's floating on air, walking through the clouds as a dopey grin spreads across his face. All Jeonghan does is nod and chuckle before ruffling the younger’s hair. The pair continues to stare at each other, Joshua feeling like he’s speaking another language, one only Jeonghan could understand. There’s a lightness and giddiness in his eyes, ones that curl up into two sparkling gems whenever his lips stretch outwards. It’s peaceful. 

“Ahem.” The clearing of the throat has Joshua jumping back, ungracefully bumping into the coffee machine (which, thankfully, did not topple over). Face red, he looks behind Jeonghan to see Soonyoung and Jihoon standing there. Both sporting a shit-eating grin on their faces as they watch the barista fumble over his words and feet in a vain effort to get to the register. 

“Oh, sorry,” Soonyoung snickers. “Were we interrupting something?” 

“Keep your love life in the bedroom,” Jihoon deadpans, rolling his eyes in the process. “For real guys. Think of the children.” 

Before Joshua could answer, Jeonghan leans in and simply whispers, “I’ll talk to you later then.” He leaves after giving Joshua a delicate peck on the lips (much to the delight of his sadistic customers and child-like coworker). The blush on Joshua’s face never leaves, no matter how much time has passed. 

* * *

The apartment is quiet when Seokmin finally awakens from his dreamless sleep. God, he feels exhausted despite it being one thirty in the afternoon. Yet despite sleeping for nearly thirteen hours, he has no energy getting up. Instead, he rolls onto his side and picks up his phone, ignoring the messages from his roommates and boyfriend, going straight into a game he has no interest in. Why is he playing a game he doesn’t care about? Seokmin doesn’t have an answer for that either, but he knows it’s mindless enough to pretend that everything’s okay.

But everything isn’t okay anymore. Seokmin’s bad days are getting harder and harder to recover from. And when he does feel okay, that okay feeling doesn’t last for long. Disappearing in a blink of an eye and sending him back down into a spiraling plane of self-hate. There’s a part of him that wonders if he should just cease to exist, anything to stop this numbness spreading over his body. 

His bedroom door opens, and Soonyoung strolls in like the sorry state Seokmin is in doesn’t bother him. _I bet it does. I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing someone like me._ Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, chucking his coat off to the side and crawling under the covers, wrapping his arms and legs around Seokmin’s body. The older is warm like a heating pad or a really warm blanket and Seokmin could just fall asleep right there and then. 

“There’s someone you have to meet,” Soonyoung says, lowly into Seokmin’s ear. “I think it’ll help.” 

“Soonyoung…” Seokmin mutters, closing his game. “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t—”

“Just try?” Soonyoung’s voice is pleading, near tears, and that ball of guilt sinks at the bottom of Seokmin’s stomach once again. Is he really a bad person for not seeing what’s wrong with him? Swallowing, he sits up. “I can take you out for something after.” 

“Okay,” he says, eyes not looking up. “Okay. Let’s try.” Seokmin allows his loving boyfriend (is he really that loving?) to pull him up and get him presentable enough. Whoever this person might have seen people looking much worse than Seokmin, but he still tries his best - anything to keep Soonyoung’s bright smile on. The pair shuffle out into the living room when Seokmin freezes. A man, if one could say that - his face is entirely childish, a young-looking face with handsome boyish features, stands there with what appears to be a small deer next to him. Strands of carefully placed dark brown hair fall over his dark eyes as a tiny smile spreads across his face. 

“Soonyoung,” the man says as Soonyoung bounces over. “You look a bit underweight, have you been eating properly?” 

“Uh…” Soonyoung says, looking everywhere else but at the man’s face. “Oh, Minhyun, this is Seokmin! Seokmin, this is Minhyun. He’s a counsellor.” 

Minhyun simply nods. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you have anywhere private we can go to?” Seokmin, too overwhelmed by the situation, dumbly nods, and motions towards his own bedroom - the only place he deems private. But it helps that none of his roommates are home, how awkward would that be if they were. Soonyoung places himself down on the sofa and turns on the television as Seokmin leads the stranger - sorry, Minhyun - towards his bedroom; the little deer following closely behind. 

“I normally don’t do house calls,” Minhyun says, taking a seat on Seokmin’s messy bed causing the younger to cringe internally. _Why didn’t I clean up? God, he probably thinks I’m a mess._ Sheepishly, he gently kicks a small pile of clothes away and takes a seat on his desk chair. The little deer prances over to Seokmin and climbs up before curling up in his lap. “But, Soonyoung said this case is a bit— Oh, Rin. No! You can’t just climb on people without permission!” 

“Um,” Seokmin says, running his fingers through Rin’s coarse fur. “It’s okay. She’s really friendly.” 

“That’s one way to put it.” Minhyun rolls his eyes at his deer, before pulling out some papers from his briefcase. It seems so informal, not like anything Seokmin has ever experienced before. The other therapists he’s been sent to have always felt so damn stiff - suffocating and judgemental. But he feels at peace with Minhyun for some reason, maybe it is the deer currently resting on his lap. Whatever it is, Seokmin could feel his troubles melting away a bit as he scans over the necessary papers. One of the documents catches his eye, confusion plastered across his face. ESA Request Form; what does that mean, and what does it have to do with Seokmin? 

As if the older is reading the barista’s mind, he clears his throat and says, “That’s an emotional support animal request form, basically by signing it, you give me permission to find you an emotional support animal.”

“I can’t own an animal…” Seokmin replies, pen hovering about the line. “We don’t have the room, and…” His words die on him, unsure of what else to say. Maybe he could just fill the form in and not get his hopes up. There’s no way there’s an animal small enough to live in Seokmin’s dingy apartment. Plus, he’s pretty sure there are no pets allowed in this shithole of a building. So he signs it and hands all the forms back to Minhyun. A soft smile spreads across the older’s face. 

“Excellent,” he says. “Let’s start the session, shall we?” 

* * *

_Minghao’s hand feels soft in Junhui’s - like smooth tofu that he sometimes gets whenever his sweet tooth acts up. The clouds thunder from above as the pair weave their way through the crowded slums of Anshan, Minghao’s hand never letting go of Junhui’s. It feels like something is coming alive in the background, but he’s not sure what it might be. In the three days he’s been here, Minghao has shown him around the neighbourhood, the best places to score something to eat, and where to go to avoid the gangs that linger around. Today, Minghao wants to show him the better, more touristy area of Anshan._

“Where are we going?” _Junhui asks._

“Somewhere touristy,” _Minghao replies, eyes focused on the street ahead._ “Away from the gangs that are going to rob you for money.” 

“I like to think I wouldn’t get robbed.” _Minghao scoffs, muttering something under his breath, cheeks pink under the harsh sunlight. Junhui barely notices it, too busy admiring the way the city shapes itself around Minghao’s aura. There’s a unique way Minghao holds himself as he walks through the streets. Junhui curls his fingers around Minghaos, relishing in the way Minghao tightens his grip as if he’s scared of the older disappearing through the gaps of his fingers._

_Minutes later, the sky above turns black, a perfect storm ready to rain down upon the city. Minghao takes a step towards the shopping district when the downpour begins, drenching everyone to the bone. A crowd around them shrieks as people try to rush under the nearest shelter to keep their products dry but Junhui stays out in the rain, relishing in the way it makes him feel alive for a small moment in his life. Blinking upwards, he can feel raindrops running down his face._

“You’re going to catch a cold if you stand outside!” _Minghao screams from under an overpass near the edge of the plaza._ “Get back over here!” 

“But the rain!” _Junhui calls back, breaking out into the widest grin in years._ “It feels amazing!” _He does the childish thing humanly possible and kicks off his shoes before dancing in the pouring rain. Drops of water hang off his bangs as he flings his entire body around in the streets. Eventually, he feels a hand on his arm. When he turns, he sees Minghao glaring at him, hair sticking to his forehead as the rain continues to pour down._

“Come on,” _he says._ “Don’t be childish.” 

“But where’s the fun in that?” _Junhui smiles._ “Come on, live a little. What’s the worst that can happen?” 

Junhui jolts awake, his bangs hanging over his eyes as he blinks away the sleep. Naps are hard to recover from sometimes but it’s well deserved - especially when Jeonghan sent him home today over exhaustion and possible illness. (Trust Junhui, it was not pretty watching him stagger around the office like a zombie and then almost falling off the balcony). Sweat drips down his back as he sheds his comforter and zombie-walks into the kitchen. His head still feels like he’s walking through a fog, or maybe he’s still being consumed by that jello monster. Whatever the reason may be, he doesn’t notice another body in his kitchen. Not until Minghao’s bony hand reaches outwards to steady him. Junhui lets out a very manly (no, it was not even close to being manly) scream and flails backward, and crashes into the countertop. Through his hazy vision, he sees Minghao’s concerned face - which happens to be a lot closer for some reason. Is Junhui hallucinating again? He did think that there was a sour cotton candy monster in his room when he woke up to stagger into the bathroom, so that’s a possibility. 

“I should go back to sleep…” Junhui mumbles, grabbing a bottle of cold medicine. “I’m hallucinating a handsome fellow in my kitchen heating up soup.” 

“I’m glad you hallucinate about me?” Minghao says, raising an eyebrow at the older. Junhui drops the bottle of cold medicine and lets out another manly (not manly) scream, tearing his throat in the process because he’s an absolute dolt. “Oh my lord, are you okay!?” The younger male rushes to Junhui’s side and helps him off the floor, in the process of grabbing the runaway bottle of medicine. Minghao mutters something under his breath, unable to comprehend it all, Junhui just smiles goofily. 

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles, reaching over and petting the younger man on the head. “And so nice. I’m so happy you’re here now.” Minghao doesn’t reply, struggling to carry Junhui up a small flight of stairs and towards his bedroom (something the younger knows like the back of his hand now). But the elder isn’t making it easy, considering his body decided that his legs will refuse to work, leaving Minghao to carry up all the dead weight. 

Despite Minghao’s relative strength (since beating up people twice his size requires such skill) he struggles to lug a six-foot-tall man up a flight of stairs. Finally, after roughly fifteen minutes of begging, pulling, and by God’s miracle, he somehow manages to get up the stairs and into Junhui’s shared room. Getting him into bed is an entirely different story, as Minghao learns very quickly. He doesn’t know how most people act whenever they’re ill and on the brink of delirium (seriously, if you do know, let him know. He needs to compare notes), but he’s ninety-nine percent sure they don’t cling to the person who is helping them. 

Junhui, while horribly ill, is exceptionally clingy - something Minghao isn’t used to. (Well that isn’t entirely true, he’s very aware of how clingy Junhui can be after sex but this isn’t the point). Minghao nearly topples over when Junhui wraps his long arms around the younger’s torso, pulling him into bed with him. See, the other wouldn’t have been opposed to it, had it not been the fact that he has soup just sitting on an open fire and he doesn’t remember the layout of Junhui’s apartment to do it telekinetically. 

“Junhui,” Minghao sighs out, pushing the elder down onto the bed. “You need to sleep and I need to make sure your apartment doesn’t burn down.” 

“Will you come back?” Junhui asks, his voice slurring a bit as his eyes droop. “I’d like it if you came back.” Minghao forces himself to swallow the lump that’s in his throat - the painful want and desire crawling up his throat. His eyes burn a bit as he chokes on his words, assuring the elder that he’ll be right back. The bedroom door closes softly, and Minghao wants to tear his hair out from frustration. 

He hates this, he hates the feeling that bubbles up inside of him whenever he looks at the older Chinese man. A part of him wants to throw himself out of the closest window while the other half wants to pull Junhui closer and kiss him under the rainfall. Minghao lets out a noise of frustration, heading down the flight of stairs and towards the kitchen. As he walks, he absentmindedly levitates random objects while wringing his hands. His eyebrows furrowing as a headache suddenly surfaces. Rubbing his temple, he mentally lowers the items and pads into the kitchen, where the soup has heated up to an appropriate temperature. But after reducing the heat, Minghao spends ten minutes digging around the cabinets, looking for a bowl to put them in - just like he did earlier looking for the pot. 

When he finds the bowl, he spends another ten minutes looking for a spoon and a cover. That’s when the front door opens and Soonyoung tumbles in with Seokmin in tow - both men carry an alarming amount of plastic bags in their arms. 

“And then,” Soonyoung says to Seokmin, not noticing Minghao. “Hoshi Yoshi, somehow, got addicted to _Seventeen Crossing: Going_ and won’t let me live my life normally unless I play with him on my shoulders.” 

“How does a hamster get addicted to a video game?” Seokmin asks, putting the bags down on the breakfast bar. “He’s a hamster. He shouldn’t be thinking of anything more than ‘I want food, I want to sleep, feed me.’”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Beats me, all I know is that he’s addicted. I should put him in counselling— Oh my god! Minghao!” He lets out a shriek that could rival Junhui’s, until Seokmin shrieks (which could shatter glass if it wants to). The latter turns to run, slamming into a wall and waving his hand against the said wall while shrieking all while Soonyoung holds his heart, torn between hysterically laughing and recovering from a heart attack. 

“I don’t know which one is scarier,” Minghao deadpans. “My unrequited love for Junhui or you two screaming.” There’s a beat of silence when Minghao realizes what he just said, his face turning beet red as Soonyoung zooms from where he is, bumps his leg against one of the bar stools in the process, and mashes his cheeks against Minghao’s. His eyes are blown wide with excitement and child-like glee, determined to wrangle the gossip out of Minghao. 

“You have a crush on Junhui!?” he whisper-shouts, looking at Seokmin for confirmation. The latter pays him little mind, opting to help put away the enormous amount of boxed tea (peppermint tea, Minghao might add) into the cabinet appropriately named ‘tea cabinet.’ “When did this happen!? Tell me everything!” 

“Wh-What?” Minghao squeaks, his cheeks turning redder and redder by the second. Looking at Seokmin, it’s evident that the elder is enjoying it - especially when he did the same thing to Seokmin two years ago when he developed a massive crush on Soonyoung. Now it’s Minghao’s turn to feel the embarrassment that comes with intense teasing. But there are no words coming out, not when Minghao is fully aware of Junhui’s desires. No strings attached, lose the feelings. So what does he have to lose if he tells Soonyoung, after all, it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere? 

“Come on!” Soonyoung begs. “Where’s the fun in this? He won’t talk, all he’s doing is blushing.” 

“It’s not like it’ll go anywhere,” Minghao mumbles bitterly, mindlessly lifting the various plastic bags around him. Bags float in the air like jellyfish in the sea, light and carefree but his jellyfishes are entirely different - they’re from the anxiety of feeling too much. It isn’t like Minghao isn’t able to feel love - he can love someone just fine. Instead, it’s the feeling of being too much, that insecurity that everyone gets when expressing themselves. 

Minghao Xu lives in his head, continually daydreaming about impossibilities that will never, ever happen. “Just, please don’t tell him,” he whispers out, staring at Soonyoung with impossibly large, watery eyes. It’s like the feelings of love are consuming him from the inside-out, a parasite that tortures Minghao daily. At any second now, a face-hugger will burst out of his chest. 

“Why?” Seokmin asks instead. “If you like him, why don’t you tell him?” 

Minghao takes a shaky breath. “He wanted a no strings attached kind of relationship and if I confess to him, it’ll make it so much worse.” 

“Like, friends with benefits?” Soonyoung questions. “Weird, I always thought Junhui to be the romantic type, guess not.” 

“Well, he is. But… I guess not.” Minghao flashes a small smile, before looping his arm around Seokmin’s arm. “Well, I have some soup Mingyu made for Junhui in that bowl, under the tea cozy. Um, make sure he eats it since he’s sick right now. Oh, and there’s more in the fridge. That’s all. Bye!” 

“Wait!” Soonyoung calls, running towards the pair. “But Seokmin was going to play _Yes of the Yes_ with me… Okay, I’ll see you soon. Have a nice walk, baby…” He mumbles to himself, putting away the copious amount of tea he got. The words weigh heavily on his mind as he does and judging by how Seokmin reacted (Minghao might’ve missed the way the younger male looked but Soonyoug sees it all), Seokmin apparently didn’t know about this little arrangement either. 

There’s a moment of silence as Soonyoung’s marshmallow-like brain catches up to what Minghao said. Finally, it smacks the dancer in the face. Junhui is sick. Junhui Wen is rarely sick (well Soonyoung doesn’t know that since the other is always at work or hiding in his office) but what the dancer finds scarier is how _easy_ it is to simply forget about the elder. Swallowing that portion of guilt down, he makes a promise to himself to focus on others. Even if it eventually spreads himself thin - it doesn’t matter, everyone else is far more important.

* * *

“Oh, wait,” Beomgyu says, slapping Soobin on the arm and pointing to the Carat Cafe. “My mom said she wanted me to get her something from here.” 

“And you _had_ to hit me that hard?” Soobin whines, rubbing his arm in imaginary pain since Beomgyu likes to think that he doesn’t hit that hard. But Soobin disagrees, and the pair bicker about it while walking into the cafe. From the counter, a man with multiple piercings (Soobin could count four on the left ear) wiping down the table while a very sharp looking man stands nearby. 

“Hello!” the sharp man says, smiling widely. “Welcome!” 

“Hi!” Beomgyu replies, waving his hand and nearly smacking Soobin in the process. (Soobin is just happy that he ducked out of the way before Beomgyu could hit him in the eye). “Are you new? I don’t think I recognize you at all!” 

“Beomgyu!” Soonbin says, eyes wide. “You can’t just say that!” Beomgyu is about to ask why when he sees something scuttling in the back, but whatever it is, it’s just too far for the teenager to see clearly. Blinking for a moment, he wonders if that is merely his imagination. Soobin elbows him in the ribs as the cashier patiently waits, the man behind him grumbles something, eyes narrowing at a stain like it personally offended him. 

“Hi, what can I get you?” the worker ‘San’ asks, a false smile lining his lips. There’s something about him that puts Beomgyu on edge, but he’s not entirely sure what it is. For a second he hesitates on ordering, mind blanking as the hypnotic grin of the older draws him in. 

“Oh,” Soobin says, running up. His eyes flashing a light purple colour as panic fills his voice. “You should probably turn that milk steamer lower be—” Just as he speaks, drawing the attention of both baristas, the door swings open and a young girl - who looks to be about ten to twelve years old - holding what seems to be a ferret in her arms. The little creature wears a long red leash and a collar with a metal tag dangling from it. The girl looks up at the menu, blinking slowly as she silently reads off the items to her pet. 

Beomgyu turns, staring at the ferret, eyes turning red as he gives it a little wave. 

“ **_Hush_ ** ,” the ferret growls out. “ **_I’m working_ **.” 

“You’re holding up the line,” San deadpans. “What do you want?” 

“A large white mocha,” Beomgyu quickly says, eyes not leaving the ferret in the girl’s hands. “Um, and a green tea; medium.” Soobin nods, nibbling on his thumbnail, eyes jerking from the espresso machine to the girl. The nail-biting gets worse as an elderly lady hobbles in with a small chihuahua in her purse. The dog yips the second the bell rings, distracting Beomgyu from paying. The dog wants a cup of whipped cream, but is he going to tell that to the lady at the risk of being seen as an insane person? Hell no. 

“This isn’t good…” Soobin mutters. “It really isn’t good.” 

“Why?” Beomgyu asks, coming next to his friend after shoving his wallet into his hoodie pocket. “What could go wrong?” 

“Everything!” Soobin tugs his younger friend towards the pick-up counter, where the second barista - ‘Joshua’ if his name tag says anything - is making their drinks. “Look, that little girl is going to order something called a Campfire, and that old lady wants a cup of decaf. Now, if the last person, uh, a very large businessman with a munchkin cat he just got comes in, then we’re all screwed.” 

“You still haven’t explained to me why this is a bad thing.” Beomgyu furrows his eyebrows, staring at his friend when the final augury comes true. A man, wearing an uncomfortable business suit and carrying a small carrier with a munchkin cat, walks in. His sad-looking eyes are looking up at the menu as he scans for something that wouldn’t break the bank. 

“One large white mocha and medium green tea for—” Suddenly, a shriek from the milk frother wand startles the three animals that are in the cafe now. The ferret darts out of the girl’s hands as she clamps her ears shut, the chihuahua begins to bark up a storm while the cat in the carrier screeches. 

“No! Milo!” the girl shouts as the oversized elongated rat runs behind the counter, determined to attack the demon that caused his owner discomfort. For fear of the ferret getting injured or worse killed by the chihuahua - who is attempting to break out of her owner’s grasp - Beomgyu’s eyes turn red. 

“Everyone _calm down!_ ” he shouts, and within mere seconds all the loud, shrieking critters quiet down, the ferret returning to his owner’s arms in seconds. “Seriously, the baristas have it under control, there’s no need to be so worked up over it!” The various animals mutter their apologies quickly, calming down to the point where people can hear the generic radio music that all cafes have. 

Joshua smiles down at the two boys, something sinister lingering underneath that sweet, sweet smile. “Thank you,” he says. “We could’ve been in big trouble if you didn’t help.” 

“Oh, no worries!” Beomgyu says back. “I have good animal whispering powers!” 

“I can see that.” Soobin, again, elbows Beomgyu in the ribs, hard before whispering, “Idiot, why the hell would you say that!?” But apparently, Joshua doesn’t notice the scuffle between the two boys, sliding the cover on their drinks and handing it over. 

“Have a good day now,” he calls to them, waving. “Come back soon!” San walks up behind Jisoo, left hand out as he hands over another cup. Jisoo drops the empty, small vial into the younger’s hand, grinning as he does. At last, after four long and painful years, he’s finally putting that plan into motion. _This time, I’ll win_. 

* * *

Junhui is rudely awoken by a loud crash coming from outside his bedroom. Groaning, he pushes himself up, lethargically grabbing his housecoat and slipping his cold feet into his slippers. For a moment, all of his joints ache - like he’s much older than he actually is. Having a cold will do that to a person. He yawns, shuffling out of the bedroom like a zombie, unaware of where he’s heading. All he knows is that there is a loud noise that may or may not have been caused by a demon. 

But before he could take a step out of his room, he’s barreled by an excitable Chan as Jihoon chases after him. 

“Chan!” Jihoon calls, grabbing the young boy. “Junhui is still sick, and he needs to rest.” 

“But, I miss uncle Junnie,” Chan complains, his skinny arms filled with a small white bundle. “Miss Ava misses uncle Junnie too.” He holds the fat cat up to Junhui’s face, who happens to be still processing everything through his fogged up mind. Junhui, in his sick state, pets Miss Ava, muttering something in Mandarin as he takes the cat back to bed with him. 

“He’s lost it,” Jihoon deadpans. “Come, Chan, before the crazy man infects you too.” Chan, despite not knowing what that means, nods, following his other uncle into the living room. Miss Ava stretches out on Junhui’s lush bed, acting like a princess as Junhui heads back to sleep - his mind still messed up from the nasty cold he’s contracted. As he lays his head down, he briefly wonders what his family would think of him right now. Ill in bed and unable to work. 

A part of him sniggers at the thought while the other sighs sadly - he knows his parents would force him up and make him complete his duties. Just the idea has him jerking up (disrupting Miss Ava in the process) and tetter towards his laptop, grabbing it, and turning it on. His back propped up against the pillows. Miss Ava stares at him with as much judgment as a cat could muster. 

“I’ll be alright, love,” he says quietly, his words coming out somewhat slurred as his hand clumsily reaches over and gives her a friendly pat on the head. “I just… I just have so much to do.” He must look utterly insane for talking to a cat-like she understands anything he says, but at this point, he doesn’t care. Hell, he used to make weird dubs of videos he thought were funny, so talking to a cat is probably the least weird thing Junhui has ever done. (The most bizarre thing he probably has ever done was get that hotdog machine that is meant for kids - however, it’s the best thing he’s ever gotten). 

Miss Ava meows in protest, her tail swishing in annoyance as she watches the assistant work despite being delirious with the common cold. She distinctly remembers Jeonghan talking on the phone saying that Junhui will be out until sometime next week - and in the meantime, he’ll be the one shouldering all the work. So, she does what any cat would do, she picks up her heavily pregnant body and prances over to his warm metal box (the laptop) and plops her body right across the keyboard. 

“Now, Miss Ava,” Junhui sighs, reaching out to grab her. His hands miss and retreat when she swipes at him. “Seriously? I have work to do and I’m feeling far better than I did before.” Miss Ava narrows her eyes and snorts, curling up on the warm metal box. She stares at him with a deadpanned ‘whatcha-gonna-do-about-it’ look and internally smirks when Junhui gives up. Ha, no one can beat the power of a sleeping cat - not even the best workaholics. The bedroom door opens and Miss Ava sees one of the most handsome men she’s seen in a long time. 

Her feline heart explodes as a fox-like man walks in (bumping into things as he does) and squints when he sees Junhui awake. 

“I thought you were recovering,” the man says (and Miss Ava’s feline heart explodes again because holy hell his voice is deep like the ocean’s trenches). 

“I am,” Junhui replies, petting Miss Ava and scratching right behind her ear, making her purr. 

“Is that so? Why is your laptop open?” The man smirks as Junhui struggles to come up with a lie. He’s never been the best at lying and now it’s coming to bite him in the butt. 

“I’m feeling so much better than I was before.” Is what Junhui finally says, avoiding eye contact with his roommate. Gently, he feels the warm laptop being taken away and his body being pushed down by WonWoo. 

“What you need is sleep,” Wonwoo states, putting the laptop on sleep mode and tucking it far away from Junhui. In a fit of childishness, Junhui pouts, scrunching up his face in displeasure despite being older than Wonwoo by a month. The younger picks up Miss Ava (bless her soul at this moment) and cradles her as she purrs contently. “Everyone is hoping you recover and you can’t recover if you’re pushing yourself beyond your limits.” Junhui stays silent, slowly processing everything WonWoo just said. 

_Does this mean someone actually cares about me?_ No, no, people just want him to get better so he can fulfill his requirements, or maybe it is genuine care from others. However, he doesn’t get a chance to ask as Wonwoo is already out the door, and Junhui is far too cowardly to ask anyways. He turns in his bed, getting comfortable as a warm, fuzzy feeling with a hint of bitterness (like a ripe grapefruit) spreads through his body. As much as he wants to believe that people genuinely care about his well-being, he still can’t shake that bitter doubt that lingers with every thought he has. 

* * *

The sound of fish sizzling on the stove is enough to make Jihoon’s stomach rumble despite eating some snacks a couple of minutes earlier. He sits at the breakfast bar, head on his hands as Seungcheol dances around the kitchen like a chef in a five-star restaurant (which they both know isn’t true, the elder is much too much a scatterbrain to really work in such a high-stress environment). Woozi flaps over and lands in Jihoon’s hair, chirping out a poorly timed song, her little wings flailing. S.Coups soon joins in and together, and the two birds attempt to belt out of the many songs Jihoon has created (and scrapped). 

“Nervous?” Seungcheol asks, plating the remaining cod pieces onto the many plates laid out. 

“Terrified,” Jihoon replies, allowing the two birds to screech in his ears. If he didn’t love his fiancé that much, he might’ve thrown a pot at his head for having two very loud birds who like to sing off-key. Jihoon has a headache before the actual dinner starts, and his parents aren’t even here yet. Wait until that happens, then the tension within the kitchen seems stupidly low for anyone’s liking. 

Speak of the devil, the doorbell rings, and Jihoon makes a move to get it. From upstairs, he could hear Seungkwan shouting that he’ll be down in a few minutes. Something along the lines of being naked drifts down from the stairs. Jihoon doesn’t pay much attention to it since Seungcheol and Seungkwan have a strange relationship anyways. He opens the door and standing outside next to the owl statue are his parents, his mother holding a bottle of white wine. 

“Jihoon!” she says, reaching in for a hug. “It’s so lovely to see you! Did you lose weight?”

“Mom…” Jihoon says as lovingly as he could muster, stepping back and letting his parents in. Ever since they came back from their final tour, it’s been strange for the pair of former army folks. For one thing, Jihoon could smell flowers emitting from his mother’s coat - a new hobby she’s taking up apparently to relieve the boredom of being retired. His father walks in, chucks his shoes off, and makes a mad dash for the kitchen. A loud, noisy macho-man fight between Jihoon’s dad and Seungcheol soon breaks out with the two birds cheering them on. The pink hair lad’s mom sighs. 

“Your father is still a child at heart.” She slips her heels off and follows her childish husband. Jihoon’s heart continues pound relentlessly in his ears, his mind telling him that this entire dinner will be a mess. Even if Seungcheol and Jihoon’s parents get together for dinner every time they’re back in AL-1. He’s still unsure of where this anxiety is coming from - his hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the stress ball Seungcheol had gifted him a week after finding Jihoon curled up in a fetal position. His hands quickly work away the tense muscles forming within his shoulders and hands when the doorbell rings again. 

Pulling it open reveals a man with heavily stylized hair and a face you’d typically see on TV - a face for acting if you will. While the kid standing next to the man looks more like Seungcheol, the same puppy dog-like eyes, and plump lips. Yeonjun grunts a hello at Jihoon, something to be expected as Jihoon and Yeonjun were never close enough to have a friendship. Jihoon forces on a smile when the man with TV face potential grabs at his hands and furiously shakes them. 

“I’m Siwon Choi,” he says, a large smile breaking out across his face; revealing two deep dimples. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.” 

Jihoon clears his throat. “Ah yes… Um, I’m Luka Lee, but I prefer to be called Jihoon.” Siwon nods, still smiling as he walks into the home. Jihoon quickly follows, the front door closing behind them with an audible _thud_. While Jihoon was greeting Seungcheol’s brothers, Seungkwan must’ve finished getting ready as he sits on the living room sofa animatedly conversing with Jihoon’s mom. A warm domestic feeling spreads across Jihoon’s chest, knowing that his mother has always had a soft spot for Seungcheol’s adoptive brother. 

The teenager’s damp hair soaks the shoulder of his shirt, but the boy doesn’t seem to pay any mind, instead of roping Yeonjun into the conversation. _Maybe this will work out,_ Jihoon thinks, still playing with his stress ball. _I have nothing to—_ A loud noise interrupts his thoughts as he hears Siwon shouting something along the lines of “Begone evil spirits!” 

“Siwon!” Seungcheol yells from the kitchen. “Stop trying to exorcise my birds! They’re traumatized birds. They scream, get over it!” 

“No bird does what your birds do!” Siwon defends from the dining room where the two birds live. “I refuse to believe it!” Jihoon covers his face with his hand, looking up at the ceiling and praying that the dinner will be less chaotic. But something in his gut tells him that it probably won’t happen. 

Dinner, for the most part, starts off relatively peaceful much to Jihoon’s shock. His parents, of course, started off with their introductions: “Sergeant Rick Lee, but call me Hoon.” “Doctor Linda Lee, but do call me Jiyoon.” before the dinner conversation dies down into pleasantries. That is until dessert comes around - a delicious blueberry cheesecake topped with a generous amount of whipped cream - then, all civil conversation goes straight out the window. 

“So,” Jiyoon says, delicately cutting into her cake with the fork. Jihoon’s eyes grow wide, mouth opening to stop whatever embarrassing that might come out of his mom’s lips, only to interrupt much too late. “Seungcheol, are you and Jihoon having a healthy sex life?” Seungcheol instantly chokes on his cake next to Jihoon, causing the younger to slap furiously on Seungcheol’s back. 

“Mom!” Jihoon exclaims. “You can’t just _ask_ that!” His cheeks heat up in sheer embarrassment as Seungkwan stifles a peal of laughter, and Yeonjun looks horribly uncomfortable. Siwon, on the other hand, seems intrigued, and nothing good can come from that. 

“Why not?” His mom looks genuinely confused. “I’m your mom, and I think I deserve to know if you’re being satisfied in bed. If you’re not, then I can give Seungcheol some pointers.” 

“I really don’t think this is—” 

“But the true question is,” Siwon interrupts (much to the horror of Yeonjun while Seungcheol is still trying to recover from nearly choking to death). “Is _your_ son satisfying my brother?” He shoots Seungcheol an ‘I got you’ look as the two adults continue to debate on the topic. All Jihoon wants to do is to curl up into a ball and pray that a massive sinkhole will form and swallow him whole. His dad merely sits there, cheeks flushed from all the beer he decided to drink while listening to this conversation. 

A comforting hand on Jihoon’s thigh reminds him to stay in the present as Seungcheol shoots him a reassuring look. But it doesn’t stop the whirlwind of thoughts that spin through Jihoon’s mind. How much _does_ the average couple have sex a year (Jihoon looked it up later on and discovered it’s about fifty-four times a year)? If he has less does that mean he’s defective? Is he less of a person if he doesn’t have intercourse about once a week? Sure, when he first got on his anti-anxiety medications, sex just wasn’t appealing. In fact, it fucking hurts during that time.

But Seungcheol just never pressured him into anything (according to him, consent is sexy) yet, Jihoon still can’t help but think that he has to try harder, even if it’s out of his comfort zone. 

“I think,” Seungcheol says, clearing his throat and stopping the conversation about foreplay. “As long as Jihoon is satisfied, then that’s all that really matters.” He flashes a grin, patting his lover’s shoulder, ignoring the way Jihoon’s face looks like a pint of strawberry ice cream. Jiyoon nods, seemingly satisfied with that answer as she ends the topic with a very pointed comment that has Jihoon is wishing he’s anywhere else but here. 

“Well, if you still want pointers. You know where to call me.” 

Seungkwan clears his throat. “I’ve just been traumatized. Thank you for that information load, Doctor Lee.” 

Jiyoon grins, waving the younger’s sarcastic comment off. “Not a worry Seungkwan. If you like I can also give you—” 

“I’m good!” The look on Seungkwan’s face is enough for the redness to fade from Jihoon’s face. His hand curls into Seungcheol’s palm, feeling those rough hands running gently over the back of Jihoon’s hand. Despite the comfort, the younger can’t help taste the disgusting taste of anxiety crawling up his throat. He’ll do better, he swears. He’ll do better, so Seungcheol doesn’t leave him for being defective. 

* * *

Gigi (who unfortunately caught another cold from school) is the one who answers the door when the doorbell rings as her brother is in the shower, big brother Minghao is busy at the fashion company, and big brother Seokmin is having an awful day. (Seriously, she walked into his room earlier to see if he wanted to eat cereal with her and judging by the lump that didn’t move when she called, he’s having a horrible day). Nonetheless, Gigi still tries to make the best of it - especially when her brother is going to take her to the park for some bonding time. She pushes a stool against the door and peers through the peephole. A lady with a blonde bob-cut and wearing way too much makeup that for a second, the little six-year-old thought it was a clown. 

“Eric~!” the lady calls. “Are you home?” Gigi slowly gets off the stool and runs into the bathroom while Mingyu is getting out of the shower. He lets out a loud shriek, covering himself up so he doesn’t accidentally scar his little sister. 

“Gigi!” he says, wrapping a towel around his waist. “What on earth are you—”

“The evil lady is back,” Gigi says, holding out her arms for Mingyu to carry her. Which would be cute if he wasn’t naked (minus the towel he wrapped around his waist) and dripping wet from his shower. “And the fox man is outside.” 

“Fox man?” Mingyu ties the towel around his waist tighter (lord knows what might happen if he accidentally flashes someone) and picks up his sister, who ignores the fact that Mingyu is still dripping wet from his shower. “What are you talking about?” 

“The fox man. Oh, he chased away the evil lady,” she merely replies, like that answers anything. He sighs and pads out of the bathroom, goosebumps erupting over his body as the cold air from the apartment wafts over his skin. His sister mumbles something that Mingyu couldn’t hear, shaking his head as he strolls towards the front door. Seriously, his sister needs to stop breaking into the bathroom whenever he’s in. It’ll save him a lot of unnecessary embarrassment. But, alas, his sister doesn’t seem to care that much about her brother’s dignity. 

He tugs the front door wide open, blinking confusedly when he sees WonWoo there (not the lady Gigi was talking about), just staring at him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Wonwoo says, covering his eyes. “I, uh… I got your address from my roommate, and I thought it was a good idea to visit you. But apparently, you were, uh, busy.” 

“I’m not busy?” Mingyu replies, tilting his head. 

“Big brother,” Gigi says, drawing the attention of both men. “You have no clothes on.” Mingyu slowly looks down and does the most responsible thing he could think of at the moment; shoving Gigi into Wonwoo’s arms and rushing back into the bathroom to put on some clothes. Wonwoo just stands there with a little goth girl in his arms. The girl reaches up and pats him on the head. 

“My brother is dumb,” she says. “Do you want to eat cereal with me?” And that is how Wonwoo ends up eating Angel or Devil cereal brand with a six-year-old at ten in the morning. He stares at the black and white coloured squares in his very cute fruit themed bowl then back at the goth little girl, who just looks happy that someone is eating with her. It reminds Wonwoo of when he used to eat breakfast with his younger sister, back when they were children. But this scene feels domestic somehow, especially when there’s a third bowl (filled to the brim with cereal) waiting for Mingyu. 

It’s like a mother and child waiting for the father to come and join them for breakfast. Mingyu emerges a few moments, thankfully with clothes on, and takes a seat in front of the full cereal bowl. He proceeds to pour a nice helping of milk, digging in like some kind of excitable puppy. 

“So why are you here so early?” Mingyu asks, with some milk dribbling down his chin. “Did something happen?” he adds as Gigi hands her brother a napkin, sighing at his messy eating despite managing to keep cereal off his clothes. Wonwoo pauses, his spoon half-way up to his mouth. Why _is_ he even here? Wonwoo is not impulsive, no, not at all. He plans everything down to the last second because if he doesn’t, he’ll get those thoughts that have him panicking that something terrible is going to happen. But this trip to Mingyu’s apartment is totally impulsive. 

Maybe it’s because Wonwoo needed to get out of the apartment, he needed a break from school work. And as bad as it may sound, he needed a break from looking after his sister (if you can even call it that when she refused to leave her room for the last three days). Luckily, she finally came out of her room to eat after stubbornly sitting by her door all evening yesterday. She’s resting now, so he thought to take this chance to come out and visit Mingyu. A part of him wonders if he just wanted to see him? _We’re friends, so this is normal, right?_ But why are his hands shaking at the mere thought of never seeing him again? Despite his dorky smile (and being the type WonWoo would not go for), Mingyu somehow makes him feel normal. 

“Uh… I think I just wanted to see you,” Wonwoo mumbles, dipping his head - allowing his bangs to cover his eyes. “I don’t see you at Aju Nice anymore.” 

“I’m normally working in the back now,” Mingyu explains. “That and I work nights mainly.” Wonw3oo nods, playing with another loose thread on his sweater. This explains why no one sees him ever whenever they go. A hand rests on top of the older’s head, causing WonWoo to look up. Like a scene out of his shoujo manga, he peers up and in that moment, it feels like a million little stars just flutter around them. WonWoo can feel his cheeks heating up as butterflies coil in his stomach. _I just could lean forward and kiss—_

“I’m really happy you came to visit.” Mingyu has a soft smile on, one that should be reserved for people special to him. He guesses that Wonwoo is someone special. His sister makes a noise akin to gagging, taking her bowl to the sink and placing it in. 

“Big brother, I will be waiting,” Gigi says, sliding off her chair and hurrying towards the bedroom. Mingyu’s cheeks heat up as he drops his hand. 

“So, yeah, I promised I’ll take my sister out to the park today,” Mingyu says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll walk you out, if you want?” Wonwoo nods because when doesn’t he feel like a lovesick fool whenever he’s around the younger. When Gigi emerges from the bedroom in a little puffy dress, Mingyu walks Wonwoo down. Their fingers brush each other’s ever so slightly, sending magnificent fireworks down WonWoo’s spine. _I could get used to this,_ he thinks, as he walks in the opposite direction. 

He feels himself fall for the tall and handsome baker even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEN WILL MEANIE GET TOGETHER!? I DON'T KNOW AND I'M PART OF THE WRITING TEAM!


	15. Tell Me To Just Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Say Yes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHlg6W1R3hA&ab_channel=SEVENTEEN-Topic) by Seventeen (DK & Seungkwan)
> 
> There will be a scene within the chapter that has very unhealthy coping mechanism and partial emotional manipulation. I'm really sorry if you were looking for a fluffy, cute Yeonbin moment.

Dressed in Junhui’s oversized dress shirt and his boxers, Minghao sits at the edge of the hotel bed, feeling conflicted. One part of him wants to tell Junhui his feelings about the whole ‘friends-with-benefits’ thing; but the other part of him can’t work up the courage to do so. He’s going insane from it all, like he’s drowning in an icy lake. Another thought comes barreling into Minghao’s head: Is Junhui leading him on? The bathroom door in the hotel opens with Junhui stepping out in a robe, hair dripping wet from the warmth of the shower as steam from inside rolls out. He rubs the fluffy white towel, hanging around his neck on his hair. 

“It’s your turn mate,” he says, padding over in his slippers towards the bed. Minghao can feel a lump forming in his throat when the opening of the robe slips down. He gets a clear view of Junhui’s well-defined chest, littered with dark, red marks on it. Ducking his head, Minghao mutters a ‘thanks’ before hurrying into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. He runs his hand through his hair, just wondering how he will survive this relationship. 

In fact, how has he not exploded into a red goo of emotions yet? How has he not broken down from how intense his feelings are? It’s like he’s dying from a heartache that never happened. Pathetic. Minghao isn’t in high school anymore, it isn’t like his world will literally end (because that’s what teenagers think of) if his crush doesn’t like him back. He steps into the shower, allowing the day’s misery to wash away, slithering down the drain. 

A part of him wishes that he can read someone’s mind, just so he knows what the other person is thinking of. It’d save him a ton of time (and from a few fights) if he can just read someone’s mind. But on the other hand, maybe it’s better he doesn’t know what others are thinking of. That’d at least save him the immense heartbreak that can come with that kind of power. 

Outside, on the hotel bed, Junhui smacks the back of his head against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling. He’s not stupid, nor is he oblivious. He’s well aware of what might come with this kind of relationship but he can’t bring himself to move further. Not when he’s so insecure about how he feels - as if he isn’t allowed to have real emotions for another human being. But if Junhui is being honest with himself, he’s just terrified of losing someone he feels like he has a real connection to. 

It’s rare for him to feel this powerful of a connection with someone - to him, most relationships feel fleeting - shallow in a way. Maybe the closest he got to feeling like himself is with a girl named Cheng Xiao from his hometown of Shenzhen. He kind of wonders what she’s doing now, as the pair have kept in touch despite ending their romantic relationship. _All I’m going to do is hurt people. Maybe I should end it now._

“End what now?” Minghao asks as he walks out of the bathroom, a towel scrubbing his hair dry. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Junhui replies looking a bit confused. “Are you feeling alright?” But that makes Minghao look equally confused. He swears he just heard Junhui talking about ending something - it sounded like the elder was right next to him from how loudly it was spoken. And yet, here they are, both confused by the other. Is Minghao going crazy from all the late-nighters he pulls whenever he’s trying to complete a project? Maybe. It seems likely actually. 

He brushes it off as exhaustion, rubbing his hair dry when he hears Junhui’s voice again. As if the elder is standing right next to him. “ _Did he hear what I was thinking? Or did I say it out loud again?_ ” Minghao jerks upwards, looking at Junhui - who is nowhere near where Minghao is - idly playing on his cellphone. Is the younger going crazy now? Swallowing, he seats himself down on the corner of the bed, looking at the older. 

“Junhui,” Minghao says, drawing the older’s attention away from his cellular device. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Hm?” Junhui mumbles, looking up through hooded eyes - evidence of his late nights and poor sleeping habits. Not like Minghao is any better. “What is it darling?” Minghao chokes a bit on his salvia - not expecting Junhui to say that so casually. If the elder notices Minghao’s obvious inner distress over being called ‘darling’ he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he waits for the other to say something - all while his eyes dart to his phone. 

“Um, about us,” Minghao starts, unsure of where his train of thought is going. “How— are we going to continue like this?” 

Junhui stares at him, mouth dry from Minghao’s question. He supposes that it’ll be brought up eventually, he just didn’t know when. Now that it’s hanging in the unspoken air between them, Junhui feels pressured to say something. The burden of the question resting on his shoulders. Does Minghao want more than whatever they’re doing now? Pretending to not know each other at work while being intimate in the sheets? Is that what Junhui wants from Minghao? Is this what he wants for the rest of his life?

_That’d just hurt the both of us in the end._

_Maybe I should end it for the sake of our hearts._

He swallows, eyes not looking at Minghao. “I… Only if you want to.” He musters up a weak smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. A light laugh escapes his lips - making it as though Junhui actually doesn’t care about them at all. It’s like this is a _fling_ to him - something that you can use like a sheet of paper and discard when you’re done. It leaves something bitter in Minghao’s mouth as he hears Junhui’s thoughts ricocheting in his own head. 

_I care about you too much to let you get hurt by me._

_I’m not right for you._

_Find someone better._

He can’t tell that Junhui is the best Minghao will ever get. There’s no one else that can understand Minghao the way Junhui does. There’s no one who can infiltrate the younger man’s thoughts day in and day out - making Minghao feel like he’s dying every single day. There’s no one that can make him come undone with a whisper of his voice or through the touch of his hand. Suddenly, he feels like a crumpled up piece of paper just thrown onto the floor, discarded by the owner. As if he’s some ruined piece of art that no one wants anymore. 

Dipping his head, he swallows the lump that’s forming in his throat. He doesn’t mean to cry - he normally hides his tears with sharp tongued words and piercing glares. But here, he can’t bear to do that to someone he feels holds every fibre of his being in the palm of their hands. Why can’t Junhui tell him the truth? Doesn’t he love him as much as Minghao loves him? 

“Hao,” Junhui whispers, trembling hand reaching forward. “Maybe you should get some sleep. It’s getting late. You must be so tired.” Why is he brushing it off like it means nothing? 

_I care so much about you that I don’t want you to get hurt._

_Minghao, you can’t ever know how much I love you._

Minghao nods, turning off the hotel lights and climbing under the covers. Even when they’re sharing the same bed, there seems to be a wall Junhui puts up between them. Like he’s actively trying to keep Minghao out and the frustrating thing is that Minghao can’t seem to fathom why. He can’t seem to break through Junhui’s diamond defenses - the thing that keeps the elder enclosed while Minghao is looking through the gem’s jagged exterior. All he wants is for Junhui to love him back, is that too much to ask for?

An hour goes by with Minghao listening to the soft snores of the elder man, listening to his incoherent thoughts drip from his brain. He can’t sleep - not when he can feel the way Junhui sometimes looks at him, like Minghao held Junhui’s future in his own hands. Maybe that isn’t enough. Maybe that’s not enough to pursue someone into something they think they don’t want. 

With that, Minghao grabs his discarded clothes off the hotel room floor - an attempt to distance himself from the elder and leaves the hotel room under the cover of darkness. Everything about him hurts, the sorrow and the sheer agony of his own selfish desire growing in numbers like cells in the body. He stands out on the empty streets, looking up at the starry night sky, remembering the way it looked the first time he saw them a while back. The cold wind flutters through the empty streets, drying Minghao’s tears until all evidence of them evaporates without a trace. 

* * *

Taehyun is the one to fill in the rest of TXT about why Kai isn’t at practice the next day, diving into what happened at the Hot Baker’s home recently (but just the bare minimum since no one really wants to hear about all that gore). It’s a shock to hear, but they try to stay strong for their dear friend. Though, Kai isn’t the only one who needs support, and Yeonjun starts to worry about JiWoo when he hears from Soobin that he hasn’t seen her at school the last few days. Yeonjun, who is still suspended for dumb reasons, contemplates about visiting his fellow Virgo as he lies in bed, staring at his blank ceiling. 

Knowing JiWoo, she might not want any visitors, but at the same time she might be super lonely with her brother and roommates all busy with school and work. _I should text her_. That would solve his indecisiveness, wouldn’t it? So to start things off, he sends a simple text asking how she’s been. Depending if he gets a reply or not, he’ll know if he should ask to visit. Not even a minute passes and he hears his phone ping with a new message, but it’s not from JiWoo, it’s from Soobin. 

**Binnie~** **_💕🐰_ **

_Are you going to visit her today?_

**Me**

_dunno yet_

_i texted her so well see_

**Binnie~** **_💕🐰_ **

_Oh, okay. Let me know if you are,_

_I was hoping to tag along and bring_

_a get-well gift!_

Yeonjun can’t help but snicker at the younger’s reply. Don’t get him wrong, he thinks it’s sweet that Soobin would want to cheer JiWoo up, but it’s not as simple as that. Still, he can’t bring himself to tell him no either. _Fuck._ Being him sucks sometimes. He never knows how to speak up when he needs to, let alone, say what’s on his mind. Like the other day, a Saturday to be specific, when Soobin suddenly kissed him, in this very bed. 

They were simply hanging out like they usually do, but something was off that day. Soobin didn’t seem much like himself and when Yeonjun tried to ask about it, he didn’t get an answer but a kiss. It was so sudden, yet, all he could do was go with the flow at the time because he had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to push him off and make him feel worse, but he also knew this didn’t seem right despite it feeling so good. He ended up kissing Soobin back, and one thing led to another. He still remembers walking out of the shower, seeing a red flush on Soobin’s back as the younger struggled back into his clothes. 

_I don’t think I regret it._ But he has no fucking clue how to feel about it. It’s a cauldron of emotions, a slew of confusing glop that flops onto the ground. For a while, he’s noticed he’s been thinking of the younger differently, like how attractive he is and what it’d be like if he kissed Soobin tenderly as a lover should. But he’d hold back because he didn’t know how Soobin truly felt, knowing the younger’s had a girlfriend before. How would he know that Soobin would like him back? So you can imagine what a shock it was when Soobin made the first move. You could say Yeonjun was kind of happy at first but now...

You’d think that after sleeping together they’d be closer but alas, that does not seem to be the case. They have yet to discuss what all of it means - are they just fuck buddies now or does Soobin want something more? Yeonjun hasn’t told any of their friends, and he’s not sure if Soobin has either but he’s hoping they both can talk it out before saying anything to the others.

 _But when?_ Hell would freeze over before Yeonjun ever brings it up, and if Soobin doesn’t either… then what? _I shouldn’t be thinking about this shit right now._

**Princess uwu**

_I’m doing okay. Thanks._

**Me**

_would u be opposed if i stopped by later?_

_its been awhile._

**Princess uwu**

_No, I don’t mind._

_It’s been pretty lonely in the apartment._

**Me**

_Soobin heard about what happened_

_he sorta wants to visit too and bring ya a gift_

_is that okay?_

**Princess uwu**

_Uhhh…_

**Me**

_no?_

**Princess uwu**

_Sure?_

**Me**

_u can say no! lol_

**Princess uwu**

_I don’t want to be rude!_

**Me**

_we prob wont stay long_

_dont worry_

**Princess UWU**

_Okay..._

Those three dots always make him anxious whenever someone uses them. It feels like they represent that short silence after someone’s been disappointed in you, or they don’t like what you had to say. She did admit it’s been lonely and here he is, saying they won’t bother her for too long. He figures if she wants them to stay, it’ll naturally happen one way or another. He lets her know they’ll be there after Soobin gets out of school and asks if there’s anything in particular she would like for him to hint at when Soobin picks out her gift. She responds with macarons from Aju Nice Bakery. He supposes he should bring her some dinner while he’s at it, too. He’s in the mood for some cheeseburgers and fries.

As the time gets closer to school letting out, Yeonjun rolls out of bed and starts getting ready, leaving his oldest brother Siwon’s house fifteen minutes later in his beat down truck. It takes a few tries to start it up and he makes a mental note to look into getting a new battery soon. He turns on some music to play on the drive over, focusing on the music instead of his chaotic thoughts. Today is not the day to get caught up in his head. When he arrives at the school’s lot, he puts his truck in park but avoids turning it off in case it decides to be a dick and never starts again. That would be just his luck, wouldn’t it? He texts Soobin he’s there waiting for him before he turns the volume up when he hears one of his few favorite songs playing. 

_Destructive mannerisms take me down the rabbit hole_

_Now watch me as I tunnel deeper and I lose control_

_There’s gotta be a painless way to take this where it’s gonna go_

_I’m yelling louder than I ever have before_

_Don’t make me go down in flames_

_Don’t make me_

_Don’t make me go down like this in flames_

_Don’t make me go down in flames_

_Don’t make me_

_Don’t make me go down like this in flames_

The sound of someone knocking on the driver’s side window nearly scares the shit out of him, causing him to flinch while leaning away from the window, clutching his startled heart. He sees Soobin grinning outside, laughing like a pair of squeaky windshield wipers before pointing for him to unlock the passenger side door. He starts walking around the front of the truck as Yeonjun watches, somehow captivated by the younger when the sun shines down on his angelic face. He looks so ethereal like that. More knocking snaps him out of that trance and Yeonjun fumbles to unlock the door, leaning over to manually pull up the lock, and pushes the door open. 

Once Soobin’s inside and buckled in, he starts to tell Yeonjun about all the things he missed out on today at school, both exciting and boring. Something about Coach Jones getting beaned in the head by a flying soccer ball or something (that may or may not have been because Soobin is absolute shit at sports, seriously, he’s nearly given himself a concussion before). But, is it bad that all Yeonjun can focus on is Soobin’s lips? Everything he’s saying is going in one ear and out the other, nothing is sticking. _I thought he was going to kiss me after getting in…_ Or is he misunderstanding something here? He thought maybe things would change between them after that intimate night, but apparently not. _Is it all just in my head?_

_Exhale with the right words…_

_So cold that your touch burns_

_Is this love or a curse?_

_Is this love or a curse!?_

Yeonjun hates moments like these, moments like when his music plays in the background like some original soundtrack and his life is an angsty romance movie. He knows some movies have shitty endings, so he’s sure his movie will end just the same: heartbroken. 

“Any idea on what I should get JiWoo for a present?” Soobin asks as they reach Sector Zero moments later. Yeonjun casually suggests macarons from the bakery. He opts to stay in the truck while Soobin heads inside, giving him some time to think about what he should do moving forward. He knows staying silent won’t do anything, it’ll only cause misunderstandings. _Maybe it didn’t really mean anything to him in the end._ Perhaps Soobin just wanted to experiment and Yeonjun happened to be the chosen one, at the wrong place at the right time (even if it was in his room, how is that his fault). 

Soobin returns with a small box of macarons wrapped up nicely along with a bigger box full of an assortment of treats. He explains they’re for his family when asked and Yeonjun simply smiles with a nod of his head, trying to hide the bitterness when Soobin happily says so. It makes Yeonjung think, why couldn’t he also have a normal family like Soobin? Would his life be any easier? Less lonely? Would it hurt less? Why did he get the short end of the stick? Was he a bad person in his past life and is paying for it now? But that’s past him’s fault, not present him’s fault.

Their next stop is Jam Jam diner, one of Yeonjun’s favourite restaurants he frequents. This time, he asks Soobin to stay in the truck while he goes in and asks what the younger wants to eat. Seeing the look of awe when Yeonjun offers to pay for Soobin’s dinner has him feeling like maybe it’s not as bad as he thinks? It’s difficult to be upset with Soobin when he’s just so goddamn cute, how can anyone stay mad at him? Seriously? At least he has a chance to collect himself while inside the diner. A part of him wants to stall returning to the truck, but leave it to Jam Jam to have incredibly fast service and he’s already walking back with his heart pounding in his chest. He’s just lucky their next stop is JiWoo’s place, otherwise he’s not sure if he can handle being alone with Soobin right now.

Upon arriving to JiWoo’s front door, he doesn’t expect to be greeted silently by the girl (not like she was super talkative before, but he notes she’s extra quiet today). At first, he feels like maybe she’s just being socially awkward around Soobin, knowing she doesn’t quite know him as well as she does with Yeonjun. That’s until she writes out in her little memo on her phone that she’s still working on speaking again after - in a sense - losing her voice from the trauma. Soobin feels bad and assures her that it’s fine, she doesn’t need to push herself in speaking to them. On the other hand, Yeonjun can’t help but be reminded of the time he too… lost his voice due to the trauma of losing his mother so suddenly. Even if she was ill for quite some time, no one is ever ready for death. 

He suddenly feels like he can’t speak either, his throat tightening up as the memories of that horrible day his mother died still haunts him. His whole body feels tense and it hurts to swallow, his appetite flies out the window along with his peace of mind. He can understand how JiWoo must feel right about now. But he doesn’t want it to show, not when they’re supposed to be strong and putting on brave faces for her. What good will it do if he adds onto the stressful situation. Would she feel like he’s trying to make it about him? If only he could just turn his brain off sometimes, maybe he wouldn’t overthink and be so paranoid about everything. Sometimes he drives himself fucking mad.

He merely pokes at his food while Soobin keeps a one sided conversation going, but it proves to be a struggle. He’s no Chatterbox Beomgyu. He tries to talk about happy things, like band practice or his dog Sean, even telling cute little stories about his little siblings at home. JiWoo seems happy to listen to it all while Yeonjun tries to tune it out because it’s not helping his mood at all. At some point, Soobin needs a bathroom break and excuses himself from the table, leaving the two virgos to sit in a tense silence. 

Yeonjun suddenly shouts, releasing all those pent up emotions along with it, but at the price of nearly making JiWoo choke on a french fry next to him. “I’m sorry!” He laughs, reaching over to give her a few harsh pats to her back. She whimpers and pouts at him for being so rough. “Everything’s gonna be okay, right?” he asks, seeming doubtful despite trying to be positive. He watches JiWoo look up at him with confusion before simply shrugging. He lets out a deep sigh, wondering if there’s any point in being optimistic when life seems to just make it impossible to be happy. Just when things start going right, it shits in your face. He should just save himself the grief and lower his expectations until he has none. 

Just then, someone gently pinches his cheek and pulls on it, directly his attention to JiWoo who is giving him a weak smile. He takes it that she wants him to cheer up, but she has an odd way of doing so. It forces him to think about what happened, to the both of them. _It could be worse, right?_ They both could be dead, but it’s not like they’d even know it. Who knows what happens when you die? Sure, some people go into the light and make it to heaven, others miss the chance and become a roaming spirit, but who’s to say Yeonjun will go to Heaven or Hell. What if he goes into the void of eternal darkness, no trace left behind like he never existed in the first place? _I gotta relax._ The thought is too depressing for him. 

He pushes himself forward and reaches for JiWoo’s box of macarons, stealing one and taking a bite, hoping it’d make him feel better somehow. He ignores JiWoo’s weak little punches on his shoulder, along with her small angry sounds. When he reaches for more, he snatches the box before she can and holds it up high, claiming “sharing is caring!” That’s when Soobin returns to the dining room, he sees the two fighting over the box of macarons. It’s adorable to watch, it sort of reminds him of his younger siblings whenever they fight over the last ice cream sandwich. And if you ask him, he’s happy to see the two acting like their usual selves around each other, they’re kind of known for their questionable banter (sometimes he can’t tell if they’re serious or just joking). It was starting to get a little challenging to put on a brave face when the both of them looked so dejected. The sound of Yeonjun falling out of his seat and the macrons spilling everywhere almost makes him regret that thought, maybe it was best when they were calm and lost in their thoughts. 

“Don’t worry, five second rule!” Soobin shouts while hurrying over to help pick them up. When they’re all collected back into the box, JiWoo shoves them into Yeonjun’s chest before turning to angrily type out a response. In all capital letters, she tells him he can keep them and owes her a new box of macarons, finishing it off with his infamous nickname, Yeonjerk. 

Yeonjerk groans in defeat while Soobin laughs his signature windshield wiper laugh. The laughter sounds like soda bubbles in Yeonjun’s ears, he can’t help but smile at the sound. He can feel himself falling deeper down in his feelings, until the surface is nowhere to be seen. He swallows thickly, uncertainty eating him from the inside out. He is, as eloquently as he can put it, fucked. 

* * *

Three days after the incident with his sister, Wonwoo is flipping through his literature notebook, trying to find the notes he made about _Emma_ by Jane Austen for his paper exploring the themes of the novel. A way of him distracting himself as helplessness starts setting in, feeling like he’s unable to protect his sister from anything. It’s a weakness he feels as he watches his sister struggle to stay afloat - something he never thought he’d have to endure ever. That might be why he’s indulging in 19th century literature. While fascinating (or as fascinating as one could be with a novel written in 1816 England) he couldn’t help but feel a little numb to the romance portrayed within the book. It reminds him of a song lyric he heard while passing his sister’s bedroom (as she blasts her scary music like she does every week in order to cope with everything): 

_I miss you, I miss you so far. And the collision of your kiss, that made it so hard._

Slowly, Wonwoo feels like he’s becoming a heroine in one of these love stories that the world is so fond of reading. Or maybe he’ll be a heroine in a Korean drama he knows Soonyoung (and Jihoon) likes to watch whenever they think no one is looking. Sighing, he pushes aside his thoughts of Mingyu (god that stupid giant won’t leave him alone even in thoughts) and prepares for his two thousand and five hundred word essay when a slip of folded blank paper slips out. 

Curious, Wonwoo picks it up and opens it. A ton of polaroid photos fall out and onto his lap. Careful not to accidentally sweep them under his bed, he gathers them up and spreads them out on his desk. Using the space he suddenly acquired from spontaneously cleaning his side of the room - he organizes each polaroid. They’re new, from the way the gloss shines under his desk lamp. In each picture, Wonwoo could feel his heartbeat quickening - pictures of Mingyu smiling into the camera, each one showing off his sharp canines and his bright eyes. Wonwoo stares at them, carefully memorizing each picture before his eyes trail down to the black small, neat and legible handwriting at the bottom of each picture. 

**Do you want to meet me?**

**I’ll be waiting at the fountain**

**In Sector A-5**

**2:30 pm Friday!**

**Don’t be late!**

**See you then!**

A heart drawing ties the concept together. Looking at his calendar, Wonwoo bites his lower lip. The essay isn’t due until two weeks from now (but looking at his scheduler, if he doesn’t get it done today then he’s behind in his other assignments - that are also not due for a couple of weeks), yet he doesn’t wish to drown in unnecessary stress that he knows _will_ happen eventually. But, the time on his clock is counting down with every hesitant second. Taking a deep breath in, he dresses in his best clothes (which isn’t easy since his closet is filled with mainly dark colours), grabs his keys and rushes out the door. 

But as he slips on his shoes, another piece of paper jabs him violently in the foot. He pulls it out and takes a read. **I hear the fountains have a show at 3pm. Hope we don’t get soaked!** Another flutter echoes within WonWoo’s chest, perhaps reading all of those romantic fantasy papers are getting to him but he wouldn’t mind seeing the fountain show with Mingyu. It’s like running in the rain - fun and carefree; a way to let loose all his stresses. Turning around, he calls out to whoever is in the house that he’s leaving before slipping out the door. He checks his watch; two oh five pm - twenty-five minutes until the scheduled time. If he runs then maybe he’ll be able to make it - without having to spend a good half an hour trying to find parking. That area of the city could be a nightmare for drivers so it’s much better to go by foot. 

Wonwoo begins a light jog, grateful that he decided to wear sneakers instead of his loafers. The lovely October sun beats down on his back, warming him up as if he’s a lizard (which at this point, he kind of is). The black coat he picked to wear soaks up the sunlight faster, making him sweat through the dark t-shirt he has on. He shoves his hand into his pocket, wondering if there’s any more strange messages lingering around. None. His hands come out empty. Perhaps there’s something at the fountain. 

Twenty minutes later, he arrives, slightly out of breath (that’s a whole hearted lie, he is completely out of breath and probably needs to build up some stamina). On a bench, close to the musical fountain, there’s a piece of bunny paper that flickers in the light breeze. Looking around and seeing no one there, Wonwoo heads over and picks it up. A phone number and a message to give it a call on the local payphone nearby has a tiny bit of excitement rushing through his body. 

He pulls out a tissue from his pocket and covers the handle of the worn out phone, picking it up and places in a couple of coins. The tone buzzes near his ear (he makes sure not to let the possibly germ infested phone touch his face) as he waits for the other person to pick up - maybe he’s being played at this moment and all of this is just some kind of sick prank to laugh at the nerdy kid who likes reading complex books that makes no sense. As the phone continues to ring, that possibility slowly becomes a reality when someone picks up on the other end. Before Wonwoo could say anything, a child’s voice echoes through. 

“He’ll be there! Just wait for him by the dancing fountain!” With that the call ends, much to Wonwoo’s confusion and slight panic. _Think rationally here, it could just be a voice changer._ Yeah, that’s it. 

Sighing, he replaces the phone and tosses the shirt tissue in the nearby trash bin. He wonders if there’s any more clues hidden in such a small space. His hand reaches into the coin return and pulls out another slip of bunny paper. 

Request a song. Any song. It’ll be your song. 

The fountain doesn’t seem to have an option to request a song as Wonwoo walks around the perimeter. That is until he stumbles upon an old automated system, overgrown by the vines in the area. He supposes this is why this particular fountain disappeared from tourists’ radars - no one is here and there’s no way to operate the thing. Such a shame too, WonWoo really wanted to see the water show. 

“ **_We’ll do one for you_ ** ,” the vines on the operating machine says, uncurling around the mechanics. “ **_Do you have a song?_ **” Wonwoo blinks, unsure of what to say - does he even have a song in mind? Is there a song he knows that isn’t from a video game? He racks his brain looking for the perfect song that’s on his phone. But after patting his pockets, he realized that he had forgotten his own phone. There goes any sense of intelligence he might’ve had. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t have my phone with—” As if lured by some magic, a flower blooms to reveal his phone, the one that’s supposed to be sitting on his desk right next to his computer, along with an AUX cord coiled around the stem. What a strange, very strange scenario that’s occurring right now. WonWoo almost questions the validity of it if time isn’t running out for him and the person coming to the fountain. He reaches out and scrolls through his song list until he finds that one song he remembers his own sister playing for him before. 

The phone is quickly plugged into the machine and he takes a step back, watching the flowers do their magic. It’s as if he stepped inside a fairytale story, the entire scene around him changes. Those dying plants that have overgrown this very secretive part of history slowly comes to life, exploding in magical beauty. The dead fountain slowly flickers with life, trickles of water spilling from the nozzles as they reach extraordinary heights. Mesmerized, WonWoo could only stand there, staring at the fountain coming back to life - as if the winter cold has melted away and spring is coming forth. 

_Turn Around_

_Turn Around and fix your eye in my direction_

_So there is a connection_

_I can't speak_

_I can't make a sound to somehow capture your attention_

_I'm staring at perfection_

_Take a look at me so you can see_

_How beautiful you are_

Through the streams of water, Wonwoo can see Mingyu standing there, looking utterly confused as he watches the water spray upwards and dance around. Droplets of liquid land on Wonwoo’s face as he opens his mouth to shout for the younger to see him. Does he even see Wonwoo through the spray of water? But once again, the magic that surrounds this place takes shape once again, holding the fate of these two men in its hands. Mingyu turns, strands of black hair flying as he does (in WonWoo’s mind, the turn is slow with little sparkles everywhere. Very romantic if he says so himself) and a massive grin spreads on the younger’s face. 

A cute boyish charm Mingyu has as he carelessly rushes through the spraying fountain, soaking his white t-shirt and grey checkered coat. 

“Wonwoo!” Mingyu shouts, arms wide open and scooping Wonwoo up and spinning him around. The water is cold against the older’s fragile skin, but the warmth that radiates from Mingyu makes getting soaked worth it. “Why are you here?” The overgrown puppy hasn’t released him once, still holding Wonwoo tightly as the water sprays around and on them. 

“Weren’t you the one who sent me all those polaroids?” Wonwoo asks, taking off his glasses. Mingyu tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing as he slowly processes Wonwoo’s words. He licks his dry lips and shakes his head. 

“I thought you were the one who sent me these handwritten notes,” he says, pulling the soaked piece of paper out from his pocket. But the water has caused all the ink to bleed through the paper. Mingyu’s eyes grow wide at the sight, quickly shoving the paper back into his pocket. A red hue decorates the apples of his cheeks as he sputters out a silly little apology. Suddenly, Wonwoo’s ideals of romance fade into ash. Suddenly, all of these adorable and romantic gestures seem like a hoax and he’s the target. 

A sad smile spreads across his face. “I guess we were just victims in a prank,” he says, swallowing down his disappointment. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time and your clothes got all wet.” Wonwoo then tries to back away, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces at the thought of being part of some convoluted prank. 

But Mingyu doesn’t loosen his grip, still holding onto the older for dear life. _You are an angel, making all my dreams come true tonight._ “I don’t understand,” Mingyu softly replies, his dark eyes downcasted like a scolded puppy. “I thought… Well, why were we called— You know what it’s stupid.” 

“What’s stupid?” 

“That I thought someone knew how much I liked you so they made me go on this crazy goose chase to find you. But, I guess - in your words - it’s just a prank.” He lets out a hallowed laugh. “I’m sorry I made it awkward for you and your sister. It’s just, I really thought that this was destiny or fate or _whatever_ stepping in.” WonWoo takes a moment, processing every single word Mingyu just said, his hands unconsciously balling Mingyu’s t-shirt. Why doesn’t he ever want to let go of the younger? Why does he want to stay in the fountain and allow the cold water rush over them like they were in some disgusting romance drama? 

Why does Wonwoo want to lean forward and finish what Mingyu started? _What’s holding you back?_ a voice at the back of Wonwoo’s head asks him. Within a few seconds, he decides right then and there that nothing, absolutely nothing is holding him back. Before Mingyu could leave, Wonwoo grabs his collar and presses his lips against the taller’s. No fears, no words of disgust lingering in his head - just Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu. A small toothy grin spreads across his face when he feels Mingyu kiss back, arms wrapping around Wonwoo’s waist. 

The fountain continues to dance until the very last note, the water calming down and that magical illusion fading away as if this forgotten area of the city has never sprung to life ever. But both Wonwoo and Mingyu know that there’s something more magical lingering underneath the cobblestones - even if they were the only two that bore witness to it. 

* * *

After math class, Seungkwan packs his backpack, takes his coat and slips out the front door of the school. His eyes train on the road ahead while ignoring the voice of his guide counsellor nagging at the back of his mind. The old woman looked over his application for one of the many acting colleges in the country before looking at him, snorting at what she saw. Apparently it’s not enough to have been in the musicals for the last three years. At least, that’s what she said. Perhaps she said it just to get under Seungkwan’s skin; knowing how insecure the seventeen-year-old is. Plus that snort she did after doing a full body scan of him really plays into his delusion of himself. 

He’s aware that he doesn’t look like the ideal type to make it in such a strict discipline. He gets it, he’s a bit bigger than most other boys. Maybe he likes having a second piece of cake once in a while. Maybe he likes buying oversized sweatshirts because he enjoys the way they hang off his shoulder. Maybe he likes the comfort those oversized sweatshirts give him whenever his PTSD gets triggered. But, maybe he’d get more roles and call-backs if he happened to be the right body shape of the majority. 

His footsteps falter a bit as he walks, his head swimming in insecurity. Maybe he should stop eating so much, after all, no one likes someone who is bigger than the lead girl. He stares down at his supposed flabby stomach, pinching the extra fat. He can afford to lose some weight, can’t he? Or else those recruiting agents from those big, big universities won’t even look his way; no matter how good his vocal talents are. Biting back those thoughts, Seungkwan continues down the road until he steps into the cemetery, the dead leaves crunching under his sneakers. His eyes scan the area, while avoiding the creepy parts of the place. There’s a reason why Vernon loves this place and that’s why Seungkwan bravely walks through the cemetery to find his boyfriend. 

Like his gut says, the younger male is asleep underneath a dying oak tree with the bark peeling off in long, fat strips. The breeze flutters by, ruffling Vernon’s hair as it does so - a small indication that one of the younger teen’s ghost friends is lingering around. Seungkwan chucks his backpack onto the dirt ground and plops down next to Vernon. The younger stirs, not opening his eyes, and reaches for his lover’s hand, feeling comfort when Seungkwan’s fingers fit perfectly in between his own. 

“Bad day?” Vernon asks. Seungkwan merely hums in response, not really interested in answering. Guidance counsellors are assholes and everyone knows that - he just wishes they didn’t constantly bring up his weight. It’s hard enough to be a gay teenager in a heteronormative world, but being fat too? It’s just something Seungkwan doesn’t need to think about. 

“Do you think I need to lose some weight?” he suddenly asks, waking Vernon up. The younger teen blinks, unsure of where the older is coming from. What brought this on? Sure, Seungkwan has always been insecure about his weight, but more so after the head of the drama club decided that Seungkwan wasn’t fit for the lead role. “ _Too hefty,_ ” the club president Jared Dickinson said, looking at Seungkwan from head to toe. “ _Can you even_ lift _anything heavier than five pounds? Plus, I don’t want to continuously take breaks because you can’t keep up. Maybe you should audition to be a food taster in the cooking club. I heard they’re looking for fat chubs like you_.” 

Vernon has never seen so much fury lining the edge of Seungkwan’s eyes as he stormed out of the auditorium. But that never stopped Seungkwan from wanting to try out, citing that his talent should be everything they look at. Yet, that doesn’t mean Seungkwan couldn’t lose a couple of pounds. That’s why he’s bringing less lunch to school or skipping breakfast every other day. There’s no harm in losing a couple of pounds, is there? 

“Why are you asking?” Vernon carefully replies. Someone’s weight isn’t something to joke about - especially when everyone is struggling to fit into their own bodies. It sucks going through puberty, all of a sudden your body doesn’t _fit_ perfectly together. Your face looks weird and you just notice all these _flaws_ that you never noticed before - it’s honest to god, extremely distressing. “Did someone say something to you? Do I have to punch them?” 

“You’re going to punch old Mrs. Davidson?” Seungkwan asks incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure punching the elderly is illegal.” He then smiles, that harsh edge that he placed up when entering the cemetery, at least that’s what Ted was telling Vernon. 

“Mrs. Davidson is such a jerk,” Vernon states, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t listen to her. Sometimes she forgets she’s talking to teenagers.” Vernon knows Mrs. Davidson’s type very well; the snooty disapproving look she constantly has on her old wrinkly face. Basically, she’s the older version of Dolores Umbridge with more underhanded methods that can’t be spotted instantly. 

Seungkwan rests his head on Vernon’s chest, feeling the younger teen’s heartbeat echoing in his ears, calming down his thoughts that seem to be bellowing with all their might inside his head. “Thank you,” he says. “That— I really needed that.” 

“Hey, what are boyfriends for?” Vernon grins, coughing slightly when Seungkwan smacks him on the chest, literally knocking all the air out of him. “Hey,” Vernon says after a moment of cuddling. “Can I stay over tonight? The graveyard doesn’t feel right.” 

“What do you mean?” Seungkwan jerks up, looking around. 

“I dunno. But it feels like there’s some bad mojo in this area and it’s been growing stronger.” Vernon grabs his backpack from the ground, prompting Seungkwan to do the same. “I think it’s best I don’t stay here for too long. Don’t wanna catch any bad juju.” He grins when Seungkwan rolls his eyes, but still interlace their hands together. Both walking down the dirt road and out of the cemetery. All while a crow caws loudly in the background. 

* * *

Perhaps the driveway of Soobin’s home isn’t the best place to do anything sexual, not when Soobin’s parents are mere feet away from Yeonjun’s beat-up pickup. But staring at the red flush of the younger male’s face erases all of that insecurity and doubt that lingers in the back of Yeonjun’s mind. Soobin grips Yeonjun’s hand as he stares through his sweaty bangs at the large living room window - seeing his father lingering there. If anyone didn’t know any better then they’d think Soobin is suffering from an intense fever, not because he’s getting his nerves plucked like a violin. His mind flutters in spasms as Yeonjun starts up the truck and peels out of the driveway. 

“You didn’t—” Soobin gasps, his heart tightening as Yeonjun stares ahead; the sun setting around them, lighting them up in a tropical orange.

“We shouldn’t be doing it like this,” Yeonjun replies, not looking at Soobin. “Not in your driveway when your dad is probably watching us.” 

Soobin nods, eyes fluttering closed as he can feel arousal still lingering through his veins. It isn’t fair that he has to ask Yeonjun to help him through this but, isn’t that what friends are for? Maybe he’s looking at this from the wrong point of view. Maybe the unfair one is him. But he feels like he can’t help it - everything in his world is crumbling down around him, making him lose control. 

He doesn’t feel like himself. 

“Sorry,” Soobin mutters. “I didn’t mean… You know. But I really like you.” 

“I like you too and… I don’t mind,” Yeonjun replies, parking his truck in an abandoned parking garage. He turns off the engine and unbuckles his and Soobin’s seatbelt. “Is that why you called me over?” He slips his hand inside of Soobin’s pants, listening to the younger gasp involuntarily. The younger curls forward, chasing that high like a drug addict needing a fix. He can feel himself approaching the brink, oceanic waves crashing against the rocks. 

A part of him hates that he uses this as a way to cope with anything (especially when it comes to the stress of taking care of his younger siblings) but a part of him likes it, it feels like a drug to him. One that he can’t access by himself. Swallowing thickly, he thinks of the pain in Yeonjun’s voice, the disappointment lacing his words. Is this really the reason why he called him over? 

_No, it’s because you actually like him. Why else?_

“I…” Soobin brokenly says after coming down from his high. “No, I didn’t… I’m not—” 

“It’s fine if you do,” Yeonjun says, wiping his hand on a tissue. “I don’t… I think I don’t mind.” _Because I get it now._ Being with Soobin just makes everything hurt less. It’s not how he imagined things should go, but at this point he doesn’t think it matters anymore. The burning touches and heated kisses makes him forget the pain and the chaos in his life. But it’s only a temporary fix for something that runs deeper than the Grand fucking Canyon. So he doesn’t mind this if it means they both can stop hurting.

“Are you sure?” Soobin asks. “Are you actually sure about this? Because I need you to stay.” Yeonjun stares at him, taking in all of Soobin’s features. There’s something that underlines the sincerity of his words, one that Yeonjun isn’t fully sure about. Maybe he’s going crazy from everything that’s happening in his life. Maybe he’s going crazy from himself - feeling himself wanting to give into everything Soobin sweetly asks for because who else makes him feel as needed as Soobin does?

A part of him fears that Soobin is just using him for sexual gain - making it as though that’s all Yeonjun is to him, but then again, isn’t that what he’s doing as well? Another part of him feels bad, because while he does this to mask the pain, he does care about Soobin in the end and he thinks Soobin cares about him too. Or at least he hopes he does. 

Soobin leans back in the seat, staring at the vast emptiness ahead. He doesn’t understand himself sometimes. To him, sex means love, it means holding onto a bit of control he has left. It means running away from his issues, at least giving him a temporary escape from reality. Having someone he knows helping him through it at least validates his methods. It’s a twisted cycle of loving Yeonjun from the bottom of his heart to needing him there to keep Soobin from devolving into a chaotic mess. 

It’s cruel to think about sometimes, at least for Yeonjun. He knows what it’s like not to be needed in anything, his brother’s current life is a prime example of that reality. So maybe, Yeonjun needs Soobin just as much as him needing Yeonjun. Both are standing on paper-thin glass, cracking underneath their weights. It’ll collapse eventually, but the question is when? When will their security crack underneath their feet and send them down to their deaths? 

He doesn’t like to think about that, drowning them in his subconscious. His hand goes to the back of Soobin’s neck, cautiously gauging the other’s reaction. Yeonjun mutters something that Soobin can’t hear, his head swimming under the water as the older boy maneuvers him to the backseat of the truck. He closes his eyes, feeling that undercurrent of desire being satisfied, his body curling forward to grip onto Yeonjun. It’s a horrible reality for Soobin as they’re moulded together. 

It’s horrible because he saw a different reality earlier. Before he called Yeonjun. He saw him walking home after the first experience, the two breaking down into an argument that cuts their friendship in half. He didn’t want that, he can’t have that. Not when he desperately needs this release. Not when there’s so much at stake here. Is it manipulative? Yes, oh hell yes it is. Does Soobin feel like absolute shit for doing something like this? Yes, oh hell yes he does. 

It’s worse when he looks up at Yeonjun and sees him forcing himself into a position he’s unsure of. His movements hesitate as he tenderly brushes a strand of hair from Soobin’s forehead. “Sorry,” he mutters out. “Was that too intimate?” Soobin quickly shakes his head, feeling something different curling in the pit of his stomach. Something he can’t really pinpoint. Is it love? Is it lust? He’s not fully sure, wrapping an arm around Yeonjun’s neck and tugging him down for a kiss. Everything has a beginning; for Soobin and Yeonjun it started with a kiss in the cover of darkness in autumn.

Soonbin has a feeling that it will end with a kiss in the same manner, under the cover of darkness with blue hearts that threatens to break with every passing second. 

* * *

It’s odd for Mingyu to show up at Wonwoo’s place with a pleasant thump inside of his chest. A day had gone by after their faithful kiss under a pseudo-shower; feeling the stark contrast between the warmth of the sun and the cold of the water. Mingyu can remember how soft, albeit slightly chapped, lips Wonwoo sports. He can remember the hesitation both were feeling but when the stars aligned, it would be silly not to follow the rules of destiny. He touches his lips again, ringing the doorbell. 

Soonyoung yanks the door open, looking disheveled. 

“Oh Soonyoung!” Mingyu says cheerfully, not aware of the dark storm cloud brewing above. “We missed you—” 

“Sorry I couldn’t make it,” Soonyoung responds curtly. His eyes scowling at the ceiling like it did him dirty. “I got caught up at work and stuff so, yeah. Next time just don’t wait for me.” He steps back, allowing the younger man in. Mingyu’s mouth curls downwards, finally seeing the dark cloud that hangs over Soonyoung - his eyes looking angry and annoyed compared to his normally jubilant demeanour. 

“Um, are you ok—” 

“Wonwoo is in his room,” Soonyoung says, heading up to his shared room in a huff. Mingyu stands there, unsure of what to say but decides that it’s probably best not to say anything and cautiously makes his way through Junhui’s apartment. That’s when he realizes that he has no freaking clue which room is Wonwoo’s, forcing him to awkwardly sit in the living room until further notice. 

He sits there for, like, twenty minutes (not that Mingyu is counting or anything) before the front door opens yet again and the smell of fried chicken wafting through the air. A very tired Junhui (Mingyu remembers him because he may or may not have accidentally walked in on him and Minghao a couple of times), staggers in. He blinks, rubbing his eyes to see if he’s hallucinating before pointing wordlessly up the stairs and to the very last room on the left. Mingyu thanks him and dashes up the stairs, taking two at a time. Standing in front of the closed oak door, he raises his hand to knock before pausing. 

Why is he hesitating? Why is he even here? Maybe he should talk about that incident with WonWoo later on. But just as he’s about to leave, the door opens. Wonwoo pokes his head out and something about his stoic demeanour changes just slightly. Maybe Mingyu is hallucinating the change but he likes to think Wonwoo isn’t as stand-offish whenever the younger is around. 

“Mingyu,” he says. “Why are you here?”

“I just… I need to talk to you,” Mingyu dumbly replies, unable to form his words anymore. There’s something about the way WonWoo holds himself that has the younger man feeling intimidated. He feels like he’s not enough despite his own accomplishments. Maybe it’s because he tends to get overly excited about topics he’s passionate about that everything comes out in a slew of word soup. “It’s private.” Wonwoo nods, opening the door wider and allowing him in. 

“The bed closest to the window is mine,” Wonwoo says, closing the door carefully behind him. “Junhui doesn’t really like how the sun shines in his face so my plants took up his windowsill.” Mingyu can see a small arrangement of potted plants just sitting in the sunshine. He doesn’t know their names but from the budding sprouts they look to be healthy. WonWoo takes a seat at his desk, spinning around in the chair as a cactus looms over his shoulder. 

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Mingyu gathers up his words in his head. It sounded so good in his head but now, he’s not so sure. Maybe they aren’t meant to be lovers at all - maybe Mingyu is just kidding himself. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” Wonwoo finally asks, saving Mingyu the awkwardness of having to stutter his way through his speech. “Will it take long? Because I—” 

“What are we?” Mingyu asks back, stunning the older into silence. 

“What do you mean? Like in terms of—” 

“Like, that… um, incident yesterday.” Mingyu can feel his neck heat up, cheeks turning red. “Did you mean it?” 

Wonwoo blinks owlishly. “The kiss? I mean, yes. I think I meant it. Did you mean it?” 

“Of course!” Mingyu can feel his heart exploding in his chest, the more he talks. Here it comes, the slew of word soup. It pours out of him like a flood, his words stumbling over each other as he tries his damn hardest to get every single thought out. He’s been told that he feels too much and doesn’t think enough - basically, people are calling him a fucking idiot. But as he talks to Wonwoo, the only person who at least doesn’t make Mingyu feel like a fucking idiot, the words stop becoming soup and forms coherent sentences. 

“I just want to know if you want me the way I want you,” Mingyu finally blurts out in a fit of feeling too many things at once. When Wonwoo doesn’t answer, Mingyu takes it as a sign to keep going. “Like, I want to hug you and kiss you and all that gross couple shit that I see couples that come into Aju Nice do. But it’s okay if you don’t want the same thing as I do as long as you’re still in my life. Because I really like you—”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo says, holding up his hand. “Shut up for a moment.” He closes his eyes, just breathing for a moment and Mingyu shuts his eyes - awaiting the inevitable rejection. “I… I don’t know anything about relationships at all - but, I’m willing to try all of that gross couple stuff. Only if it’s with you.” In that one moment, Mingyu feels like he just died then went to Heaven, grabbing Wonwoo into a massive bear hug and shaking him in excitement. 

“Holy shit,” Mingyu says. “I thought you were going to reject me or something!” 

“Why the hell would I do that?” Wonwoo asks. “You were literally the cause of my identity crisis. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Oho!” Mingyu lets the older go, a mischievous sly grin on his face. “So you thought about me?” Wonwoo’s own cheeks turn red as he socks Mingyu in the arm for making him think something less than appropriate at a time like this. 

“Just a fair warning though,” Wonwoo says after Mingyu whined about WonWoo’s unnaturally powerful punch (it isn’t that powerful, Mingyu is just being a drama queen). “I don’t know what I’m doing at all, so please be patient with me.” 

Mingyu breaks out into a massive grin. “Don’t worry, that’s what relationships are. Taking it one step at a time.” And that’s exactly what they’ll do, one day at a time.

* * *

Nighttime comes faster in the times nearing winter and by five pm, the sun is setting in the horizon as Joshua unlocks his apartment. He bursts inside, arms full of groceries. Never had he thought that grocery shopping would take so long but he supposes that’s what he gets when he procrastinates till the very last minute. With a flick of his wrist, his radio turns on; automatically tuning into the last station he listened to: a death metal station. Startled, Joshua nearly drops his carton of eggs, his head whipping towards his radio; a thought of possession entering through his mind. It’s the third time the radio has tuned into another station than what he previously left it on. He sets the eggs down, hand shaking as he changes to the popular pop station. With the voice of whoever’s popular singing in the background, Joshua returns to his stove. A slight feeling of giddiness filling the pit of his stomach. 

Jeonghan is coming over, and that fills him with pride as he chops up pieces of parsley. But as his kitchen fills with the scent of tomatoes, there’s still a feeling of anxiety lingering in the back of his mind. One he’s unsure of who to tell. Is it possible to have random mental blackouts? Is Joshua losing his mind or is someone actually taking control over him whenever he’s stuck in the middle of the empty road? He swallows nervously as he dumps two cups of pasta into the pot of boiling water. There’s a feeling of fear that sneaks into his mind as he stirs the sauce; his mind lingering towards the belief of losing his head. He’s going crazy - no one can experience blackouts, not in the way Joshua is experiencing them. 

He tells himself to calm down, there’s no use in getting worked up over nothing. Just as he does, something triggers him to head back outside. His footsteps automatically leave the apartment before he can stop himself. It’s like a fight for control happening inside of his brain. And the moment Joshua closes his eyes, he’s back on that abandoned road. But there’s that strange galaxy riff cutting up the tranquil forest, forcing the barista to jump through - now or never. _Another blackout_ , he thinks when he finds himself standing outside of Aju Nice, wondering how he got there. He shakes his head, and shivers before rushing back to his apartment. 

There, the sound of the smoke alarm wailing jolts Joshua out of his strange mental daze. He rushes over to the overflowing pot and burning pan, turning off the heat and opening his windows. There’s something wrong with him and for the life of him, he can’t figure out what it is. First, there’s just mysterious guitar picks lying everywhere in his bedroom. Second, there’s a strange black stain on his bathroom wall, right underneath the mirror he taped up with black garbage bags - and the stain seems to be growing by the day. Finally, there’s that lightheaded feeling whenever he’s near Jeonghan’s nephew Chan. 

As Joshua continues to fan the smoke alarm, a knock comes at his door. He swings it open, scaring Minghao a bit. The younger man’s doe-like eyes sharply scan the interior of Joshua’s apartment while still holding onto a tupperware container filled with what seems to be meat. 

“Um,” Minghao says, holding out the container. “I live on the second floor… And my roommate makes too much food. Please take some.” 

Joshua graciously takes the container, offering the younger to come in. But he sharply declines, stating that he has more containers to give away. Joshua doesn’t notice the way Minghao backs up, rushing out of the apartment’s vicinity like he’s being attacked by a swarm of bees. As Joshua closes the door, he wonders where Minghao was hiding his other containers. _He’s someone very special,_ a voice in Joshua’s head says, sending an unknown shiver down his spine as he places the meat into the fridge. 

It hasn’t been more than twenty minutes or so when knocking to the door of his apartment echoes again. Perfect, just in time too. Just as Joshua lowers the heat and cleans his hands - his ever present anxiety grows in the background. He pulls the door open to see a massive bouquet of flowers in his face. He jolts back, a tad shocked (and flattered if he’s being honest) when Jeonghan emerges from behind it. 

“Surprise,” he says jokingly, mimicking the way Joshua says it whenever he wants to show up randomly at Jeonghan’s workplace with some homemade lunch. “Speechless from my flowers’ beauty? I would be too, but nothing compares to yours.” And within a minute or so, who’s counting honestly (Joshua, that’s who. Joshua is counting), Jeonghan has managed to cause Joshua great flattery and great emotional cringe. A feat that should be documented in the books but alas, it probably isn’t. 

“You’re so cheesy,” Joshua retorts teasingly, taking the flowers with great care and heading towards his closet to grab a vase. “Take a seat on the sofa! I’ll be back soon!” With the roses in a pretty light blue vase and hydrated, he returns with them in hand, setting it down on his coffee table. Jeonghan stands near a shelf Joshua has, admiring the limited pictures the younger has of himself. Suddenly, Joshua feels self-consciousness overtake him, his own apartment feeling sparse compared to the elder’s apartment. 

“Did you just graduate in this picture?” Jeonghan asks, turning his head and pointing to a picture of Joshua cladded in a blue robe dancing on the beach. 

“Yeah,” Joshua says, smiling fondly at the memory (that he strangely can’t remember completely all of a sudden). “I can’t remember the date though, or where it was.” 

“That’s alright!” Jeonghan cheerily replies, his eyes turning into crescents as his mouth turns into a gummy grin. “We can just create new ones. You and me.” Joshua blinks, his own cat-like smile growing wide at the thought. His hand reaches out, tenderly and cautiously touching the other’s - he grips Joshua’s hand like his whole world depends on it. The two stare into each other’s eyes as if all spoken communication is nulled. That is until the smell of something on the verge of burning comes barreling into the room, causing Joshua to let go of Jeonghan’s hand.

“Oh no! My pasta sauce!” Joshua cries, rushing in with a very fond Jeonghan watching from behind. He turns to look at the picture one last time, imagining himself standing next to Joshua as the two dance around along the beach as the ocean waves lick the soles of their feet. Jeonghan walks in to see two large dinner plates of delicious looking spaghetti sitting on the small oak table. Not that he minds, somehow squeezing his long body into the tight space while Joshua does the same. 

He sheepishly looks down. “It isn’t the best thing I’ve made but, I hope it’s edible.” He rests his hand on the table, knees bumping into one another as they dig in. Jeonghan softly places his hand overtop of Joshua’s, cautiously waiting for the younger to pull away. Instead, Joshua curls his fingers, interlacing his and Jeonghan’s together. “You don’t mind if I do this right?” 

Jeonghan shakes his head. “You should do it more often.” He likes how soft Joshua’s hand feels; he likes the sparks running down the younger’s arms and into Jeonghan’s veins. For a second, he doesn’t want to let it go for the fear of losing him. If he holds tightly enough, Joshua will stay with him forever and ever, till death do them part. 

* * *

Kai wasn’t expecting company this evening, but it’s not like he’s going to turn them away either, that’d be incredibly rude after they took the time out of their evening and came all this way to visit. Taehyun and Beomgyu enter along with Mingyu and Minghao. They have dinner in their hands, smiles on their faces as they greet him like it’s any normal day. That’s good, it’s something Kai needs right now: normalcy. After the stressful weekend he had, he just can’t afford to dwell on it any longer, but that’s short lived when Minghao asks how he’s been doing, if he’s been coping with the trauma well. 

It’s hard to say; has he? He’s been having the worst time sleeping, an endless attack of nightmares that plagues him like a swarm of locusts. And a growing fear of the dark when the power would suddenly cut out late at night. Not to mention, his father has been more and more busy with work, sometimes unable to return home at all. His mother hasn’t been in touch since leaving that day and he’s starting to think she walked out on them again. JiWoo opens his messages, but doesn’t respond. He isn’t taking it to heart, but he feels like he has absolutely no one to talk to at this point. Yet, there’s four people in front of him right now who might be willing to listen to him. But he won’t say anything because there’s people who have it much worse than him. 

“I’ve been okay,” he lies through his teeth, falsely plastering on a smile as he shovels in whatever delicious thing Mingyu made. 

“Are you sure?” Beomgyu asks, oblivious to Kai’s demeanour. To the older teen’s naive mind, if someone says they’re fine then you shouldn’t try to contest it. But, Beomgyu isn’t stupid. He knows what insomnia looks like and judging by the dark circles lining Kai’s eyes, it’s either he’s trying a new makeup style or he’s not sleeping enough. “You look really—” 

“Beomgyu,” Taehyun says sharply, shutting him up. “Maybe we should talk about something else. I don’t really want to think about something gory while eating.” The older simply nods quietly, sinking back into his seat and staring at his food. He’s less hungry now and usually he has a big appetite thanks to being a dancer.

Mingyu tries to liven up the room with storytelling, but no one knows what the fuck he’s talking about or if any of it is true for that matter. But anything is better than eating in awkward silence. Two stories in and a snickering Minghao later, the light above the dinner table flickers suddenly. It catches everyone’s attention, everyone but Kai - who quickly excuses himself from the table and disappears off into the kitchen to escape, leaving everyone wondering if he’s alright. 

Beomgyu makes the move to get up but Taehyun stops him, suggesting it’s best to leave Kai alone. _But is that what Kai really wants?_ Against the younger’s warning, Beomgyu leaves the table and heads into the kitchen where he catches a struggling Kai seated upon the floor up against the counter, his head in his hands as he tries to tell himself to get it together. It breaks Beomgyu’s heart to see his friend in such a state. He’s so used to seeing Kai as that happy kid who loves to have fun, he’s always smiling as bright as the sun but now…

“Hey, Kai?” he speaks up, being careful as to not startle him while he approaches. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he adds after sitting down next to the distressed teen. As expected, Kai doesn’t say anything, but it seems like he’s starting to calm down. His breathing isn’t as laboured as before and Kai isn’t beating himself up as much. Beomgyu carefully wraps his arm around Kai’s shoulders and pulls him close in hopes to comfort him. A smile spreads across his lips when the younger leans into him, like a child who feels safe with an older sibling, but that smile falters when Kai finally breaks down into tears. Unable to hold it in any longer, his emotions spill out until there’s nothing left, everything he’s been bottling up now flooding all over the place like a broken water dam. 

Taehyun comes looking for the two in the kitchen moments later, frowning when he sees the emotional sight. It pulls at his heartstrings, and he admits maybe he was wrong to keep a distance in the end. He just didn’t want to push Kai into snapping at them for trying to baby him about the situation. As much as he wants to believe his friends would never lie to him, he knows now not to be so quick to accept his friends are okay when they’re really not. It’s just a shame Soobin and Yeonjun couldn’t join them tonight; he’s sure Kai would have felt extra loved if they were here to support him too. Taehyun joins his friends on the floor, sitting on the other side of Kai and rests his hand on the youngest’s back, attempting to soothe the emotional pain with a gentle touch.

“Things are going to be okay,” Taehyun says, rubbing gentle circles on the younger’s lower back. It used to calm him down whenever he was a kid, so he assumes it’ll be the same with Kai. Or maybe Taehyun has to become his grandma to invoke those kinds of emotions.

“And what if they’re not?” Kai asks, sniffling. (Beomgyu grimaces as Kai gets snot all over his nice knitted sweater but now is not the time to mourn over the loss of a nice sweater you got from your great-aunt). “What happens if things get worse? Then what do we do?” He can’t imagine anything getting better from such a traumatic incident - you can’t simply return to normal life after seeing a kid, _a fucking kid_ , get pecked to death by a gang of crows. 

Taehyun doesn’t respond, unsure of what to say. Hell, what is he supposed to say? Things won’t get worse? Give him a fucking break here. He can’t predict the future (that’s Soobin) nor can he make empty promises. But seeing Kai so distressed is doing things to the rational part of his brain - honestly, he can’t think. He wants to make those empty promises and he wants to tell Kai that everything will be okay. And yet, he can’t. He’s swallowing glass, a mouth full of blood dripping from the corners. 

“We support each other,” Beomgyu says, holding up Kai the best he can. “Right? You’re not going through this alone Hyuka. We’re here to help and I’m sure the hot baker and the scary photographer are here to support you too.” Speak of the devil(s), the hot baker and the scary photographer have entered the chat, a look of worry on Mingyu’s face when they approach the three teenagers in the kitchen. A firm hand lands on Kai’s shoulder, helping him stand up. But the lack of feeling in Kai’s legs has him toppling backwards, his head smashing into Mingyu’s nose. 

“Oh that is going to leave a mark,” Taehyun deadpans as Kai profusely apologizes to Mingyu and Mingyu profusely apologizes back while the teen’s head throbs from the impact, the adult’s nose bleeding from the impact (just a little). “When two giants collide…” Taehyun muses under his breath, earning a chortle from Minghao and a giggle from Beomgyu.

“You know, it’s okay to not feel alright after something like that,” Minghao says, helping Mingyu with his bloody nose. “You don’t have to put up a strong face. It’s okay to be vulnerable.” 

“But, that’s not me. I’m not weak, I’m supposed to be strong. I have to be or else…” Kai stands there, thinking of how his mom walked out on them and how much that destroyed his father. He had to be strong for his father, if he wasn’t, surely his father might have walked out on him too. Who wants to deal with a weak little boy like him? The last thing he wants is to be a burden to others, they have better things to worry about than him and his feelings. And how is he supposed to be strong for others if he can’t even be strong for himself? He wants to help his friends, he wants to help JiWoo overcome this too.

Mingyu frowns at that answer, his mouth opening to say something while looking at Minghao. The younger male’s eyes narrow, his lips pulling into a tight line. Neither one knows what to say without it sounding condescending. At least, Minghao doesn’t know what he can say. He’s well aware of how his words can come off as blunt or rude - guess that’s why he worked so well within a gang setting. 

“Or else what?” Mingyu questions, tilting his head. Maybe Mingyu is being naive or stupid but he doesn’t understand the consequences of being weak. Or the perception of weakness. “What would happen if you’re not strong?” 

“You’re being weak right now,” Minghao bluntly states. All of the air in the room suddenly shoots out of the room like a missile. Beomgyu and Taehyun look at one another - neither one can think of what to say. Taehyun, then, gets the sense to open his mouth to stop Minghao but the older man doesn’t stop. “It’s weaker to pretend that you’re okay than to outright admit it. How are you supposed to be there for others when you’re not even there for yourself?” He walks closer to Kai, his hands tightening around his shirt. Minghao is shaking, struggling to breathe normally as he stares Kai straight in the eye. 

“If you think putting up a strong front for the sake of others makes you strong, then you’re sorely mistaken. Do you _honestly_ think that I’m fucking fine after _years_ of seeing people die in front of me? Do you _honestly_ think it’s easy to hold a dying person in your arms and continue on like nothing happened? You can admit that you’re hurting, no one will judge you for it!” Minghao’s voice rises in volume, his own words cracking like glass shards as memories of literally _seeing_ the light in his friends’ eyes slowly fade away as they bleed out in the dirty streets, because a hospital was never an option. It all comes flooding through. “You’re stronger if you admit that you’re not okay, but I’m not going to stand here and tell you that if you’re not willing to change yourself.” 

Minghao pushes past the kids, unable to look back. He tells Mingyu he’ll wait for him in the hallway, to collect himself. The door slams behind him and suddenly a wave of emptiness washes over him. Yet, it’s not one of sadness. Rather, it’s finally getting rid of the words he needed to say. He feels clean. 

Back inside the kitchen, Mingyu nibbles on his thumb nail, looking from the door to the teenagers. Guilt eats away at his organs. “I’m sorry,” Mingyu blurts out, looking like a kicked puppy when he sees the shattered look on Kai’s pale face. God, he really does not want to be in this situation. The kid looks like he’s about ten seconds from having a mental breakdown. “But I hope you understand what he was getting at. It’s okay not to be okay sometimes. I can understand the feelings of not wanting to burden others, but think about it, how is it fair to your friends and loved ones if you won’t give them the chance to be there for you?”

“He’s right,” Beomgyu chimes in, giving Kai gentle pets on his head like he’s some oversized puppy, because he might be. “We all can’t be superman twenty-four-seven, that’d be so exhausting! It’s great that you consider our circumstances and our feelings, but I think it’s about time you start considering your own feelings, don't you think?” With those words starts another fit of tears as Kai covers his face, beginning to sob. 

The kitchen lights flicker again, this time more intensely which causes his friends to huddle around him as Mingyu looks around, wondering what could be the cause of it. The sound of Taehyun yelping and cursing snaps him back to the little trio where the younger complains about getting shocked. Minghao comes rushing in, asking if everyone is okay. Luckily, the light shade doesn’t shatter, but it’s better to be safe than sorry as Minghao directs them to stand further away from any light or electrical sources. 

“I’m sorry!” Kai wails. “I’m not okay, I’m really not. I’m sad, and scared, and I don’t know what to do to make it all stop. I don’t know how to stop hurting!” His words come out childishly, but they’re not sure if it’s because he’s a sobbing mess now or if it’s something else. Either way, they manage to understand him and do their best to comfort him with the biggest and warmest hugs he deserves, even if it feels like they’re hugging an electric fence. Most of them bear the pain as best they can - for the sake of their friend. 

“Do you feel better now after venting?” Mingyu asks with a hopeful smile. Kai hiccups while wiping away lingering tears, his bottom lip quivering as he opens his mouth to speak.

“N-Not really, but thanks.” He really looks like a child the way he leans into Beomgyu’s side, clinging onto him tightly. Beomgyu simply smiles through the uncomfortable position of babying his freakishly tall friend as Taehyun stands by, watching with a fond smile. They’ve never seen this side of their friend and honestly speaking, it’s quite cute. Even Minghao looks like he’s about to crack a smile, internally gushing over the teen inside his head (since he can’t gush over him in real life - he has an image to keep up here). 

“Don’t worry, change can’t simply happen over night, you’ll get there. Just make sure to communicate it to your friends, it’ll get easier,” Mingyu says with a warm smile. “You’re not alone, Kai. You have your friends and family who are here for you, remember that.” The youngest teen manages a small nod, unlatching himself from Beomgyu’s side. “ I’m really sorry for cutting our visit short but it’s getting late. So, we should get going, but you’ll be okay, right? Will your parents be home soon?” By the way Kai’s expression darkens tells Mingyu he said something wrong. 

“Uh, soon,” Beomgyu answers for him, grinning a bit too forcefully to be natural. “I’ll stay with him until then, don’t worry! You guys can go, I got this!” Taehyun seems reluctant to leave, but he does so knowing he still needs to take care of his grandmother at home. He’s sure Beomgyu can keep Kai sane until Taekwoon gets home. If anything, maybe the two will have a spontaneous sleepover. 

Taehyun gives Kai a hug when they reach the front door, he pats the younger on the cheek and tells him to cheer up despite knowing it’s easier said than done, but that doesn’t mean he should encourage the guy to stay sad either. Moving on is hard and normalcy is barely there but eventually, wounds will heal. 

Mingyu then gives Kai a big warm hug, telling him words of encouragement before parting. He pats him on the shoulder, grinning when he finally notices how tall the kid is. They’re nearly the same height. _He must be the same height as Wonwoo. Or maybe even taller than Wonwoo?_ Whoa, Mingyu must be really smitten if he’s thinking of Wonwoo at this moment. Speaking of Wonwoo, he already misses him despite visiting him earlier, two visits in one day would just make him look clingy, wouldn’t it? Relationships are hard for Mingyu to keep because of how hard and fast he dives into them. _I hope I don’t fuck this up._

Mingyu steps out with Taehyun and heads down the hallway. Mingyu turns just in time to see Minghao (yes, unaffectionate Minghao - who one time gave Mingyu a pat on the shoulder and told him that the guy isn’t worth shit) hugging Kai. His jaw drops at the mere sight of it. Even if the hug looks like a fatherly kind of hug, one where a father encourages his son to stay strong. It’s still a massive step up from the cold, undetached persona Minghao is known for. (Which is hilarious to Mingyu since Minghao looks so adorable sometimes). 

“Look who’s becoming a softie,” Mingyu teases once inside the elevator. Minghao simply ignores the comment, choosing to jab Mingyu in the side instead, while Taehyun chuckles at the two’s odd friendship. It’s going to be a long car ride home, he knows it. At least there’s a sense of normalcy to it, but that’s all people can ask for nowadays.

* * *

Chan’s massive bed feels nice under Gigi’s fingertips - her hair dripping wet as Jeonghan helps the little girl prepare for bed. Chan, Gigi’s husband, is currently in the bathroom brushing his teeth as Miss Ava lounges on the bed with her tail swishing like a diva. Jeonghan’s long fingers accidentally catches a knot in Gigi’s hair, tugging a bit too harshly for the little girl. Yet, she doesn’t flinch as Jeonghan does, exclaiming how sorry he is for hurting her. She simply shrugs, smiling blankly up at him as he works on providing more gentle service, firing up the hairdryer so she can sleep without catching a cold. That might be why she catches colds so often, not drying her hair properly before going to sleep, schools are just a breeding ground for germs. 

Halfway through the hair drying process, Chan returns with a smudge of toothpaste on the side of his mouth. Jeonghan motions him to come closer, wiping it off with his thumb, much to Chan’s dismay. Uncle Jeonghan has cooties and Chan doesn’t want to catch them. 

“You didn’t wipe your mouth properly again,” Jeonghan says, cleaning the toothpaste off his nephew, all while feeling like a proper parent who does these kinds of things to their children. “How many times have I told you to make sure all the toothpaste— Stop squirming!” 

“But uncle Hannie!” Chan protests, still squirming. “You have cooties!” 

“What!?” Jeonghan stops all motion, staring at his nephew - who takes this opportunity to make a run for it, diving into his bed. “I _do not_ have cooties!” 

“Only liars say they do not have cooties,” Gigi deadpans, frowning up at the adult. “Are you lying?” Oh lord, Jeonghan is going to have to either _lie_ to these children about the non-existence of cooties or admit he has them. There’s no winning in this situation and backed into a corner, he announces that it’s now bedtime - no ifs, ands or buts. Or well, until Gigi points out that her hair is still wet, and well, Jeonghan isn’t going to allow her to sleep with wet hair. 

Chan gets into bed with his stuffed dinosaur in his arms. 

“Miss Ava,” Jeonghan says. “I trust you to look after Chan as I get Gigi ready for bed.” Miss Ava meows lazily, moving her adorably fluffy body over to where the boy is and plopping down on his legs. Gigi and Jeonghan both head into the bathroom, Jeonghan making sure her hair is fully dried as the little girl brushes her teeth. Her soulless eyes staring into the mirror as she robotically brushes. A part of it should unnerve Jeonghan but it kind of doesn’t - perhaps he’s getting too desensitized by Chan’s weird friend. Whatever, as long as Chan is _making_ friends, that’s all he cares about. 

“Channie has lots of energy,” Gigi remarks, spitting out the toothpaste and unlike Chan, actually makes sure none of it is still stuck on the side of her mouth. “I feel lots of energy from his body.” 

“Well that’s Chan for you,” Jeonghan replies, putting away the hairdryer. “He likes to dance a lot.” Sometimes, whenever Chan isn’t looking, Jeonghan watches him attempt to dance to Michael Jackson (he may or may not have, at least, thirty videos of Chan dancing on his phone). Sure, the moves are rather jerky and stiff, but it’s better than anything Jeonghan can ever do. Maybe he’ll enroll Chan into some dance classes once the boy is old enough. 

Gigi stares at Jeonghan, shaking her head. “He has same energy as the place with gone people.” 

“What do you mean by that?” What are ‘gone people’? Are they missing people or are they people who aren’t mentally there? Or are they dead people and Gigi is actually a ghost whisperer? _No, wait, that’s Vernon._ Then another thought enters Jeonghan’s head. _Wait, is Gigi even a contractor?_ Thinking about it now, Gigi does have an uncanny ability to find people, despite not being anywhere near them. In fact, as he thinks about it now, he’s not sure why the little latched onto Chan. The little girl has more options for friends, so why is Chan her best friend? They’re polar opposites in every sense of the word and yet, here they are. Stuck to each other like glue. 

“The place with gone people has lots of energy,” she explains as if that makes her cryptic message clearer. “Chan is like the place with gone people. But he’s not gone.” She smiles softly, scaring Jeonghan quite a bit, walking back to Chan’s room. He follows, unsure of what to do or say, like how does one respond to a statement like that? But, inside his nephew’s bedroom, he’s pleased to say that Chan hadn’t moved an inch as his dinosaur smothers him. Jeonghan rushes over to make sure the boy is still breathing (which he thankfully is but Jeonghan has no way of moving the dinosaur without waking up Chan and sparking a night terror). So, he focuses on getting Gigi comfortable in Chan’s queen sized bed. Her own little plush - a pizza - in her arms as she settles into bed. 

Jeonghan leaves the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar and Miss Ava in his arms. He pads down the hallway, scratching her behind the ears as his mind works a mile a minute. What on earth is Gigi talking about and why does it concern Chan? Jeonghan’s head hurts from thinking about it too much, deciding that a good night’s rest is in order for him to think clearly. Maybe he’ll finally call up his mother, lord knows it’s been a while since he did. Maybe she’ll be able to shed some light on this. 

He sets his queen down on her bed, watching her curl up contently as Jeonghan gets into his own bed. Eventually, Miss Ava will crawl into his bed but for now, she looks satisfied where she is. 

“Miss Ava,” Jeonghan mutters quietly, eyes dropping. “I can count on you to help me take care of Chan right?” She lets out a trill in response. “Yeah. We won’t let the gone people take our baby away.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minghao is the real MVP


	16. 'Cause I Knew I Was in Love With You When We Sat in Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Silence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7t4qnH8tpd4&ab_channel=BeforeYouExit) by Before You Exit
> 
> We got some social media in here! Woot Woot!  
> But Merry Christmas!

There shouldn’t have been anyone lingering around before school - especially when auditions for the winter school musical is soon approaching, but there’s always the possibility of ghosts lingering around. It is an _old_ school, after all. But Kai nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears the melodic and soulful voices of what sounds like a weeping ghost echoing through the empty hallways of the basement where all the music rooms are. He inches closer to where the ghostly sounds are coming from - the voice dipping into the low E3. 

_Something has changed within me…_

Kai creeps closer, trying to hear the words that may be too low for him to hear. Then, the voice rises into an A4 for the pre-chorus and then transitions into a mixed register for the chorus. It’s haunting to hear in the near-empty hallway. Kai sits outside like the creepy janitor that sometimes sits outside the closet and stares at the girls exiting gym class. 

Then, he hears it. The high F sharp before hitting that delicate high D flat for three bars in the final bit of the song. 

_Is ever gonna bring me down~_

Kai’s body, still leaning against the door, tumbles in when the barrier is unable to maintain his weight, and his lanky self crashes into some drums. Lying on the ground, he waits for the ceiling to stop spinning. 

“Oh my god, Kai!” Seungkwan says, rushing over to the younger male and helping him up - checking him over to make sure he hasn’t suffered a concussion from hitting the drums. “Are you okay? Wait, why are you here so early?” Kai blinks away the confusion he feels when staring up at Seungkwan, his reasoning dying in his throat. It’s not as easy to say, ‘Oh, it’s because my parents were arguing and I didn’t want to be there.’ If it were, he would’ve said it by now, but it isn’t. 

“Um… I wanted to practice some more?” Kai offers weakly. Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, not fully believing him but decides not to push Kai for a better excuse. Seungkwan, according to rumours, is many things, but one thing people don’t get correct is the fact he’s respectful of your issues. If you want to talk about it, then come to him - he won’t go to you to prod. Or maybe he will, Kai doesn’t know, but that’s what Yeonjun told him. “We have a show coming up for homecoming.” 

“Oh,” Is all Seungkwan says before grabbing his backpack. “I’ll leave you alone to do that.” 

“But… I need a second person to listen to me!” Kai quickly says, scrambling to his feet. “And you seem to have a nice musical ear.” For a moment, he thought he heard something his dad would sing during his musicals - but he could be mistaken. After all, he was scared shitless. 

Seungkwan’s diva-like eyebrow comes up again as he stares at Kai like he lost his marbles. “Really? And how would you know?” 

“I heard you singing from the hallway.” Seungkwan’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red as he ducks his head and mumbles something incoherent. “I mean,” Kai quickly adds on to his statement. “I liked it. It reminds me of my dad.” 

“Oh,” Seungkwan says, rubbing his cheeks to ebb away the red. “I kind of have this silly dream of becoming a musical star, you know like Taekwoon Jung or a singer like Ren from Korea. But, I don’t… I don’t have the body type for it.” 

“Don’t say that! You shouldn’t let something like that get in the way of your dreams because at the end of the day, what truly matters is that you have the voice!” Kai rebuttals. He watches Seungkwan avert his gaze elsewhere, flustered, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink again. There’s a moment of silence between the two before it dawns on Kai what the older student had said earlier. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Did you say Ren and Taekwoon Jung?” 

“Yeah, they’re my idols.” Seungkwan beams, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his photo album while Kai looks over his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Taekwoon Jung before, right? He’s a pretty big deal here in AL-1, you had to have heard of him unless you’re living under a rock.” Seungkwan chuckles while bumping his shoulder with Kai, who gives a sheepish smile. 

“I’ve heard of him because actually… he’s my dad.” Seungkwan’s phone slips through his fingers, and Kai fumbles to catch it before it can meet the ground. He gives Seungkwan a moment to process that piece of information until he’s smacked on the shoulder and asked if he’s lying. “I don’t know why I would lie about that!” Kai frowns. “You don’t have to believe it if you don’t want to, sheesh.” He hands Seungkwan’s phone back as the older boy apologizes, he’s just in shock. “I get it, and it’s not like every day a friend of yours personally knows a famous person, right?” The way Seungkwan bites down on his lips and gives out a strained laugh raises suspicion in Kai’s brain. _Why is he acting like that?_

“Yeah, exactly!” Seungkwan blurts out, his whole demeanor changing. He wears a bright smile on his face and suggests they take a seat and get to know each other a little more. Kai is sure Seungkwan doesn’t have ulterior motives since he doesn’t bother to ask any further questions about his father, that is until he asks if Kai is planning to follow in his father’s footsteps once he graduates high school.

“No, I want to become a music teacher. I don’t think the spotlight is for me,” Kai says sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palm on his thighs, he suddenly feels nervous talking about it for some reason. “I know it sounds silly to say that when I’m currently in the school band and all but, you know?”

“I mean fair enough, I think you’ll make an amazing music teacher! You’ll be everyone’s favorite teacher, for sure!” It’s nice to hear that from someone else’s mouth rather than his biased father and friends. “So, do you like Ren?” Seungkwan asks, phone ready to share more pictures and screenshots of the time the idol liked or replied to his posts on Chitter.

“Yes, I do! I haven’t met anyone else who listens to his music,” Kai blurts out excitedly, pulling out his phone to also share his favorite posts and pictures of Super Star Idol Ren. “Yeonjun says his music is too soft for him, whatever that means.”

“As expected from a guy like Yeonjerk,” Seungkwan snickers, causing Kai to let out an obnoxious laugh. “He only likes that scary music JiWoo likes. Aren’t they a match made in heaven?” Kai’s laughter quickly dies down, and Seungkwan realizes his joke has rubbed him the wrong way. “But the good news is JiWoo likes Ren’s music too!” 

“Oh? She does?” That’s right. They talked about it that day he was looking after Chan, but he did most of the talking then. Suddenly Kai gets shy talking about his crush with one of her best friends. He wonders how this conversation will pan out, and if the couple have different opinions on how to approach the person you love. “How is she, by the way? I tried texting her, but I was left on read. I didn’t know if I was annoying her or something…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’d be worse if she didn’t open your message at all,” Seungkwan says with a weak chuckle, reaching out and slapping him on the back a few times. “She’s doing better. She’s just not very talkative these days, that’s all.” Kai feels a little relieved to hear that, he’s been so worried and didn’t know if she was angry at him or something. He’s not sure why she would be, but his brain is stupid, let him be. 

“Okay, then that’s good. Thanks for clarifying.” He wants to ask more but decides not to pry too much. On the other hand, Seungkwan asks Kai how he’s been doing since the incident. He adds that he doesn’t have to say a lot, to which Kai simply answers that he’s just been worried about JiWoo and the others. The older student praises him for having such a good heart. Kai, who’s embarrassed, tries to steer back to the topic they were talking about beforehand, he doesn’t want to dwell on the past any longer than he should. 

“Right, we were talking about JiWoo liking Ren’s music. You know, she met him once, that lucky bi—” Seungkwan stops himself from cursing in front of Kai. “You know, since she’s from Korea, of course, she got to meet him, but I’m not bitter about it, nope not in the slightest!” He shows Kai one of the photos of a slightly younger JiWoo posing with Ren from a year ago when she was visiting her parents during summer break. He can’t help but feel jealous and isn’t sure if it’s because she got to meet one of his all-time favorite idols or the fact his idol is holding JiWoo close to his side, like a lover or something… which would be bad since Ren is an adult, and JiWoo is still a minor. But there’s a pang of heartache lingering in his chest when Seungkwan pulls his phone back. _I miss her so much…_ Even though it's been a few days, it feels like a lifetime for Kai.

“If he ever tours in America, we should definitely go,” Kai says with a bright smile, pushing his feelings aside for now. “I doubt he’d ever perform here in AL-1, but if he has a show somewhere closer, we’re going.”

“Really? But I doubt I’d have the money even to buy a ticket, let alone travel.”

“Don’t worry about it, and I can handle all that. You’re seriously the only person who likes him as much as I do, it’d feel wrong if I went and saw him all by myself! So you’re coming with me!” He can see the pure look of awe on Seungkwan’s face before he looks away, chuckling and blinking away some tears. Kai figures he probably doesn’t get many kind gestures like this and is genuinely touched. 

“Okay, we’ll go together then,” Seungkwan says softly with a genuine smile. “But until that day comes, we should spam his Chitter account, so he knows to visit AL-1 while on tour. In fact, I’m going to do that right now!” He holds up his phone and taps away at it as Kai’s eyes widen. 

**𝓑𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮́ (@Boo_tastic)**

**@ChoiGoRen please visit AL-1 City if you ever come to America! You have your two biggest fans here waiting for you! Right, @**

“What’s your handle name on Chitter?” 

“My what?”

“I’m tagging you in my post! Don’t be shy!” Kai hesitates for a moment before caving and gives Seungkwan his handle name. 

**𝓑𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮́** ( **@Boo_tastic)**

**@ChoiGoRen please visit AL-1 City if you ever come to America! You have your two biggest fans here waiting for you! Right, @Ningningbyeol?**

**H̳y̳u̳k̳a̳~! (@Ningningbyeol)**

**Replying to @ChoiGoRen @Boo_tastic**

**YESSSSSSSS, please consider! （＾Ｏ＾☆♪**

Just as the two of them are about to leave the music room, Seungkwan’s phone pings a notification five different times. They both freeze and look at each other before Seungkwan chuckles nervously, mentioning it was probably just a notification from someone else he follows liking his post. He unlocks his phone to have a look. His jaw drops, and he turns his phone, nearly shoving it in his face. Kai then hears his phone ping as well.

**@ChoiGoRen and 2 others liked a post you were mentioned in.**

**🆁🅴🅽✪ (@ChoiGoRen)**

**Replying to @Boo_tastic @Ningningbyeol**

**Thank you so much for your support! I will look into it, so please wait for me a little longer! Love you both~~~ ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡**

**✿🆄🆆🆄✿ (@Ren_tastic) and 4 others liked a post you were mentioned in.**

**✿🆄🆆🆄✿ (@Ren_tastic) started following you.**

Curious, Kai taps on his new follower’s icon, which leads him to their profile. A photo of a girl sitting in front of a mirror dressed in black with her phone blocking her face leaves him clueless for a second, reading the bio doesn’t help either. 

**This account is as dead as my soul. I never come on here unless you’re special.**

There are only ten people following the account: @Boo_tastic, @Chwenotchew (he assumes is Vernon given he’s mentioned in Seungkwan’s bio with heart emojis), @Choinotchoy (which is Yeonjun’s account and a total rip off of Vernon’s account). But Kai doesn’t recognize the other six accounts, though he does recognize Ren.

**_New Post from @ChoiGoRen_ **

**🆁🅴🅽✪ (@ChoiGoRen) 4m ago**

**Hello, my lovely RENTASTIC fans! I am here to announce an exciting collaboration! In the next month or so, I will be modeling @GoodToMeOfficial new winter and fall fashion line! Pls help support @GoodToMeOfficial’s new clothing! See you soon AL-1!**

“Oh my god, did you see that!?” Seungkwan shrieks, slapping Kai so hard in the arm that he almost drops his phone. “Ren is coming to AL-1. Oh my god! It worked!” He’s honestly so shocked and wonders if it’s just a mere coincidence.

**Good To Me✪ (@GoodToMeOfficial)**

**Replying to @ChoiGoRen**

**We’re excited to have you on! Thank you so much! :)**

“Well, I guess this means you don’t need to worry about traveling costs anymore! I hope he has a meet n’ greet while he’s here.” 

“Totally,” Seungkwan replies, slapping him again. “You better ask JiWoo to tag along too. Considering she just followed you on Chitter, and she barely goes on there to begin with!” Kai feels the ache in his chest ebb away slowly, a smile forming on his lips. Thinking about her bio makes a lot of sense now. “I better get going. See you around!” With that, Seungkwan takes off down the hall. It takes a moment for Kai’s kiwi mush brain to catch up with what the other just said. There are too many things happening within a short time until he lets out an inhuman sound (something similar to a dog whistle) and quickly decides right then and there, to hide in one of the lockers until his embarrassment subsides. 

* * *

Hakyeon rubs his tired eyes as he pours over the last of his research, a vain effort to find the supposed nullify power that everyone (that young detective included) is talking about. A power so rare that no one knows if it even still exists. In fact, many things in this world shouldn’t exist, and it’s much easier trying to find something that _should_. Looking up at the ceiling of his home office (being a part-time professor and a part-time international bank thief pays pretty well - mostly thanks to Hongbin, who simply hacks into any bank in the world and transfer enough into Hakyeon’s bank account), he closes his eyes momentarily. His stupidly large brain is trying to think of something, anything, that might help him in his research. 

His long fingers drum mindlessly against his oak desk when his laptop rings; a video call from Agent Han Sanghyuk of the CIA. Pulling on his headphones, Hakyeon taps the green button, accepting the younger male’s call. Sanghyuk blinks owlishly as he adjusts his camera a bit. 

“Agent Han,” Hakyeon says, cutting out all the mindless chit chat. “To what I owe the pleasure?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk replies, pulling out a manila envelope. “Did you check your email? I found something that might be of use to you.” Hakyeon shakes his head, turning on his computer desktop and pulling up his email. Right at the top of his inbox sits a brand new email, one delivered to him three hours earlier when he was in yoga. Rolling his eyes, he clicks on it. A PDF file sits at the top with a picture right next to it, along with a charming message from the younger. 

**_Don’t say I never do anything for you, you ungrateful old man._ **

“I’ll have you know,” Hakyeon says, his sharp eyes scanning the document with interest. Finally, something useful. “I am still young in my heart.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

“If I say it, then it’s most likely true.” Hakyeon rolls down, his eyes furiously scanning for anything useful. The words ‘ _experiment_ ’ and ‘ _contractors_ ’ and ‘ _power source_ ’ filters through his vast mind; he works overtime, exhausting all resources he thought he had trying to figure out what they mean when he pauses at a particular profile. “Oh. You are right.”

“When am I ever wrong?” Agent Han asks, his voice bordering on condescending as Hakyeon continues to scan over the child’s profile. 

**Name:** There is black ink smudging the name, he couldn’t read it if he tried. 

**Sex: Male**

**Race: Korean-American**

**Age: 6**

**Birthplace: Los Angeles**

**Birthday: December 30,** the birth year had been scratched out

**Power: Healing/Pain infliction**

**Details: Subject 00017 came to us in the** (the words are blocked out). **We have high hopes for such a young contractor - many previous subjects were of high school or middle age that were discovered when our agents witnessed them using their powers. With the latest technology given by** (the words are blocked out), **we hope to** (the words are blocked out). **More information will be provided.**

**Subject 00017 is taking well to treatment. He is a fast learner for being our latest recruits. If he continues like this, our mission will be done, and we would have created the first** (the words are scratched out) **. More updates will be documented as the experiments continue**. 

Hakyeon scans the rest of the document; his mind is skimming over the cruel and unusual punishments these so-called ‘scientists’ were doing on a child. Even though Hakyeon has a conscience, science or not, there’s an unspoken rule to never experiment on someone under the age of sixteen. His mouse shakes as he scrolls down to the very bottom of the profile, his eyes clinging onto the final words of the men who were morphing this child into a biological human weapon (though for what purpose, Hakyeon does not know). 

**Final update: Though our experiment was successful** (name extracted) **felt like it was too successful. Subject 00017 is growing out of control, and he is proving to us that he will not be a force to be reckoned with. Within the last two days, he has murdered at least fifteen guards with his bare hands. A pain infliction power is the real demonic weapon - one we could use in war. Until he is needed, we will be putting him to sleep. Who knows what the world would become if someone like that were set loose - it would be anarchy, we assume. Once the weapon is ready to be used, we will deploy him as needed. Experiment over.**

**Status: Missing in action - dangerous suspect, approach with caution.**

**New developments over the experimenting process: There’s been a change in personality from a sweet, bubbly kid to a cold-hearted killing machine.**

**Subject 00017 has developed two new powers in the course of his ten-year-long treatment: First being a copycat/stealing power (the ability to either mimic or take another contractor’s abilities), and secondly a nullification power (the ability to null or prevent any other contractor from using their skills). Both of which will be proven useful within the field.**

With an eyebrow raised, he turns back to his laptop. 

“When were these experiments?” Hakyeon asks, his fingers impatiently tapping on the wood. 

“Years,” Sanghyuk replies, his eyes closing momentarily. “I found them in the archives because some of the descriptions match the missing people Seungcheol has been trying to find. I’ve sent it to him too.” 

“Keep me updated on anything else you find.” With a mock salute, Agent Han ends the video call, leaving Hakyeon alone with his thoughts. He closes the PDF and opens the picture next. Something about the young man strikes Hakyeon as odd - like he’s seen the person before. Medium brown hair that glistens red in the sun, a feline-like bow-shaped mouth and soft looking eyes that could melt the coldest of people. Tilting his head, the scientist struggles to recall where he may have seen the other. _Oh well_ , he thinks, powering down his computer and releasing the tension in his neck. _The answer will soon come to him_ . With that, he raises his arms over his head and makes his way upstairs to his warm bed. He’ll resume his research tomorrow when his mind is clear, and his body isn’t so exhausted. 

* * *

By the time JiWoo wakes up (missing yet another day of school), the apartment is empty. There’s a familiar lonely silence that looms over her, but it somehow doesn’t bother her as much as before. As the days pass, it’s gotten more comfortable to be alone because she knows nothing will change moving forward, it’s pointless to rely on others if they’re not going to be there when you need it most, right? Not like she blames them when they’re busy with school and work, but still all she has is herself now. 

Despite telling others she’s okay (a bad habit she has because she’s terrified to be honest about her feelings and doesn’t want to burden everyone with it), no one’s looked past it, merely backing off instead of making sure she’s okay. But she can’t be mad, not when she would do the same if she were in their shoes. It’s hard to comfort others, especially in a situation like this, where you have no fucking clue what to say or do. It’s okay. She’ll get over this somehow, right? 

She takes a glance at her alarm clock, rolling out of bed when the fluorescent numbers glow three-forty-seven pm. Last night was long and almost sleepless. She’s starting to understand Vernon and his unforgiving insomnia price more and more each night. As she quickly gets dressed and presentable for her appointment at four pm with therapist Minhyun, her mind thinks of all the ways she could get out of doing this session, she’s just really not feeling it today, but JiWoo knows she must if she wants to get better. The sound of knocking at the front door snaps her out of it.

She scrambles to her feet and rushes over to the door, where she peeks through the peephole. Behind the door stands Vernon, hands in his pocket and head dipping forward as if he’s about to collapse from lack of sleep. She opens the door, seeing him lift his head. The dark circles under his eyes are becoming more and more pronounced - to the point that he looks like he got into a fight recently. 

“Yo,” he greets her with a sleepy smile, pulling one hand out of his pocket and flashing her a peace sign. “Sorry to drop by without any notice.” 

She shakes her hand, gesturing that it’s okay while stepping out of the doorway, allowing him inside. It’s supposed to feel normal or as normal as it could be, especially when Vernon is known just to drop by anyone’s house randomly. She pulls her phone out from her pocket and begins to write in a memo pad, asking if he needs to charge his phone. 

“Uh, I only understood, like, some of that,” he says with a confused look on his face. JiWoo frowns and takes a look at what she wrote only to facepalm when she realizes she wrote it in Korean. She recently texted her brother, so of course, her keyboard was left on Korean. Between Vernon and JiWoo, he’s more fluent in English while she’s more fluent in Korean. Vernon is still learning, and so is JiWoo. To make their lives easier, they opt to speak mostly in English when they’re together, but there are times when JiWoo slips up like just now. She quickly switches it out to English and retypes her question. “Yeah.” He nods while dropping his bag by the door and kicking off his shoe. “I also need to take a shower and get my clothes washed. Is that cool with you?” 

She simply nods before typing out another response. _‘Minhyun will be here soon for my therapy session, so do you mind staying in my room until I’m finished?’_ For a moment, he’s about to ask why she’s not speaking to him until he recalls what Seungkwan told him the other night, how JiWoo seems to have lost her voice from the trauma, all the crying and screaming from her constant nightmares. He feels sorry for her and wishes he could do more, but he’s also not in the best state to do much, not when he’s on the verge of passing out himself. At least he still has some energy to take a shower.

“No, it’s cool. Do what ya gotta do. Good luck,” he says with a supportive smile and two thumbs up before walking past her and pulling off the hood of his jacket, revealing his greasy light brown hair. She types out that she’ll get him a change of clothes from Wonwoo’s room. “Thanks, JiWoo. I need to get the clothes I’m wearing washed as well,” Vernon languidly says, unzipping his jacket and chucking it on the floor. 

JiWoo pitters around, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and yanking out the shampoo and conditioner, and soap she keeps for when Vernon or Seungkwan stays over, placing them at the edge of the tub. When she turns around, she lets out a shriek and covers her eyes. He doesn’t need a translation to know she’s probably thinking _Oh my god, Vernon! Don’t just start stripping in front of me! This isn’t a strip club!_ While blindly flailing her arms, a vain attempt to flee. Her hand finally reaches the door, twisting the knob and escaping. 

“I’m sorry, bro, my brain feels like a deep-fried banana,” Vernon calls, his sleepy tone becoming more pronounced. All he can see is her hand pop out from behind the semi shut door with the words, _‘Just don’t fall asleep in the shower. I’m going to be busy with the therapist_ . _’_ typed out on her phone.

“Okay, I promise not to sleep in the shower.” 

She waits for a moment, listening to the sound of the shower starting before knocking on the door, to which he replies he’s in the shower with the curtains drawn. She sneaks in (kind of) and snatches all of his clothes from the ground, and hurries off to the laundry room. JiWoo chucks all of his clothes (including the ones from inside his backpack) into the wash but pauses when she realizes she forgot to check Vernon’s pockets. She reaches in and does a quick check to find his phone in one of his jeans pockets. 

_That was way too close._ JiWoo sighs in relief and pockets his phone. She returns to washing his clothes, noting how little Vernon has. On his person, he only has two pairs of pants, three shirts and two pairs of socks, and three pairs of boxers. Pity sinks its ugly claws into her mind as she stares at his severe lack of clothes. But then, as she thinks about it more, she guesses it’s ideal for someone who's homeless. _Why doesn’t he just move in with Boo and Seungcheol? Wouldn’t that be easier?_

Stretching her arms above her head, she heads back to her room to charge his phone before hearing her phone ping a new text message. She opens it just as there’s another knock at the front door. She quickly answers the text before hurrying to answer the door. That has to be Minhyun. She lets out a silent but dreadful sigh shortly before opening the door. 

“Hello, JiWoo, have you been well?” Minhyun greets with a bright smile. JiWoo manages a small smile in greeting, stepping aside to let him in. This is going to be the longest hour of her life, and it is. 

When the hour is up, JiWoo feels disappointed in herself for not being able to say more. It’s not that she thinks this is pointless and dumb, she wants to get better, but the words are hard to get out. Every time she thinks about expressing herself in words, the fear gets the best of her. She’s afraid if she speaks about it, those memories will only become more and more vivid until it’s stuck in her mind like a video on loop. It’s easy for the smallest things to get stuck in her head like music, there’s always a song stuck on her mind no matter what time of the day, it never turns off. 

Even the horrifying sounds of nails on a chalkboard or a bunny’s teeth scraping against each other still haunts her to this day. What is she going to do when the death of Jennifer’s brother is perpetually stuck on her mind? She’s struggled with keeping her mind focused and controlled for as long as she can remember. Intrusive thoughts began to occur shortly after her grandmother’s death. Eventually, they come and go as they please, striking when she least expects them. Who would want to think about uncomfortable things during class or conversations with her friends? It’s the only reason why she agreed to see a therapist in the first place. She wants to learn how to cope with it, at least enough to be somewhat normal again. 

She wants the nightmares and night terrors to stop. She wants to be able to visit Steve the Crow at the cemetery without feeling triggered by the sight or mere sound of a crow cawing. She wants the dead little boy under her bed to stop taunting her and scaring her when he pops up out of nowhere. She wants to understand why the sight of his death becomes more and more realistic each time. How can her memories be that vivid? And how does she explain that night with her brother and Junhui and that haunting illusion? _Did I manifest a new ability?_

“I can see that you’re struggling with forming your words. Am I correct?” Minhyun asks while packing up his things. JiWoo simply nods. “It’s okay not to know what words to use in a given moment,” he says kindly, a warm smile on his face. 

She holds up her phone, avoiding eye contact. _‘But it’s not really that I don’t know what to say, it’s more like…. It’s hard to speak, let alone say it out loud. The more I think of what to say, the more vivid the memory becomes, and it’s… scary. It hurts and...’_ Her eyes lock into that distant look as the memories start to creep into her mind, her hand begins to shake before she lowers it back into her lap. Minhyun starts to notice there’s some strange dark mist forming around the distressed teen as if she’s putting up a barrier to protect herself from the outside world. Slowly she’s engulfed into a dark sphere and Minhyun can no longer see her. 

He reaches out to touch it, the ripples flow like black water but he feels nothing but air. He decides against reaching in for the fear of accidentally hurting her if he were to smack her in the face with his hand, and besides, he’s not sure if it’s dangerous to disturb her while in a defense mode. He’s now aware she’s a contractor who doesn’t have any control over her ability as something catches his eye in his peripheral vision just then. 

He turns his attention to what seems like a little boy peeking over at them from the dark hallway. This confuses Minhyun since he was told it’d only be JiWoo in the home. Nonetheless, he gives a friendly wave to the boy who begins to stalk closer. The second he comes into the light, Minhyun frowns and stops waving. The sight of a dead child, covered in blood with missing eyes is what he sees and immediately it clicks in his head what’s going on. He’s not afraid and simply returns his attention back to his patient who is still hiding in her dark bubble. His eyes begin to glow the faintest pink colour, bordering on white, as the scent of lavender fills the room until the dark mist, the little boy, and bubble fades revealing JiWoo as she becomes more relaxed. She snaps out of her darkened state, confused about what just happened.

“JiWoo, I understand it can be difficult, and I assume you’d like to develop better coping skills for whenever these occur. I’m not forcing you to speak, nor am I giving you no outlet. Instead, I propose this idea.” He pulls out a yellow notebook from his bag and gently offers it for her to take. “Consider it as a dream journal; if those nightmares or emotions come to you, and you find it hard to form words verbally - I suggest writing it down or drawing it in the journal. But if you do draw it, please write a small summary of your emotions next to it. We can discuss these entries in our next session, does that sound like a reasonable plan of action with you?”

JiWoo quietly nods, looking rather curious and intrigued by the idea. _I can do this,_ she thinks to herself. She knows it might be a challenge at first, but she’s hopeful this will be a starting point into a full recovery. She wonders what might come out of this if simply writing or drawing will relieve her anxiety. _I sure fucking hope so._ She’s sick of living in fear. 

* * *

Just as Jeonghan is about to take a sip of his coffee, his office door breaks open, causing him to spit whatever’s in his mouth out (and everyone knows Jeonghan doesn’t spit, but that’s beside the point). Aggressively, he wipes his mouth and whips around in his leather chair, ready to banish whoever dares interrupt him while he’s in ‘relax-and-drink’ mode. Standing sheepishly in his doorway is his assistant, who holds his iPad close while lifting his hands apologetically. Jeonghan huffs but doesn’t say anything as he finally takes a long sip of that delicious bean juice. Plus, Junhui has been out the last couple of days with a horrific cold, so Jeonghan _can’t_ be that upset with him. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

“There’s a swarm of teenage girls outside,” Junhui says. “And they all want Ren.” It becomes the second time Jeonghan spits out his mouthful of coffee that day. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out an exasperated sigh wondering how these fans managed to find out idol Ren is showing up to the office today, especially when they agreed to keep the details of the contract on the down-low (as the cool kids say). But hell hath no fury like a fan girl’s scorn, Jeonghan gets up and heads down to the lobby, with Junhui in tow. Ren is to arrive in a few minutes, giving the blond plenty of time to compose himself and prepare for the inevitable screaming. His other option, if the crowd gets too loud, is to use his mind control to move them back, though he isn’t prepared for the consequences—last _resort there Jeonghan_. The effects will be dealt with later, but for now, Jeonghan needs to secure this deal or so help him, god. 

He mentally counts down the minutes until the black limo approaches the building. The tinted windows roll down just a bit to give the fans a glimpse of the person inside. When the car parks, there’s a small hesitation as security rushes out to hold the crowd back. Once the door opens, it’s like the entire block goes silent. The former screaming fans quiet down, their eyes widening in awe as a young man with long raven hair flowing behind him exits the car. His hair just stopping at the middle of his back, giving a feminine yet ethereal appearance. Jeonghan provides the singer with a quick scan, noting the way the singer’s long, navy blue suit jacket hugs his curves. He notes the way the singer holds himself: a small air of authority but genuinely still down to earth. Ren’s large eyes scan the crowd of his fans as a bright smile cracks across his face. 

“Thank you for coming to see me,” he says in his best English, waving at his fans as he hurries inside from the cold. Rubbing his stiff arms, he holds out his hand towards Jeonghan, that same bright smile still on his face. “Long time no see, Hannie,” he says in Korean.

Jeonghan wraps his hand around Ren’s, noting how soft they are compared to his own and also responds in his mother tongue. “Yes, it's been a while. Thank you for agreeing.” 

“Anything for a friend.” Jeonghan blinks, wondering what the other means by that, but disregarding it as Junhui makes mindless chatter with Ren’s manager Jonghyun and Ren’s bodyguard Dongho before handing the contact to Jeonghan and disappearing into his office. The young celebrity takes a moment to look around, his eyes lighting up at all the different people milling about. They enter the meeting room, Ren taking a seat on one of the lavish leather chairs, spinning around like a little child as Jeonghan goes over the contract with Jonghyun. At the same time, Dongho ensures the celebrity doesn’t magically hurt himself. 

Just as they’re negotiating deals, the meeting room door opens and a shrill, “Channie~!” emits from the room. The group jumps as Ren prances over to the tiny six-year-old (who begged his uncle to come along today and Jeonghan is _weak_ for the puppy dog eyes Chan gives him), enveloping him in a tight hug and spinning him around. 

“Minki!” Chan shrieks out, trying to hug him back (as much as one could when dressed like a little marshmallow because Jeonghan knows that boy is going to catch a cold, thanks to the crazy weather of AL-1). “You came! You came!” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, little buddy!” In a split second, as the pair reunites, a cog moves within Jeonghan’s mushy brain. One that finally manages to put a name to a face. His eyes light up as Dongho attempts to break up the loving reunion (for fear of someone injuring themselves) as Ren (Minki Choi) continues to stand on top of the rolling office chair. 

“Wait,” Jonghyun says, rubbing his eyes and looking at the ceiling for patience. “How does that kid know Ren?” 

“I’m his godfather! I sang to him while he was in his mother’s womb!” Minki shouts, helping Chan out of his heavy attire. “Where are the games, Channie?” 

“In my uncle’s office,” Chan whispers back. “I’m going to, uh, kid your butt!” 

“I’d like to see you try Channie! Plus, meetings are for Jonghyun to deal with anyways.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the pair gather up their things and rush out of the meeting room, with the quiet Dongho following behind them after giving Jonghyun a nod. The elder of the pair sighs, falling on one of the chairs dejected. 

“What a small world,” Jonghyun says, reading over the contract. 

Jeonghan nods, chuckling. “Yeah. Tiny.” 

* * *

Kai’s lost count of how many days it’s been since the incident at Mingyu’s apartment, he didn’t want to think about it too much, so the days have become a blur. For the past week, he’s been really going through it, always worried about everyone involved in the incident. It sounds like Mingyu and Minghao are coping the best they can, given they were the ones to help him realize it’s okay to not be okay sometimes. It has helped a lot and he’s so thankful, he’s not sure how much longer he could have gone putting up that fake front and pretending everything is fine. No doubt he would have gone insane and lost himself along the way. 

After communicating and venting with his friends more, he summoned up the courage and paid a small visit to Jeonghan’s apartment the other day to check in on Chan without outright bringing up the incident. Gigi also happened to be over at the time and was very happy to see him. He adores the way she latched herself to his legs, refusing to let go and kept cuddling him throughout his whole visit. She claimed he was still sad and her cuddles should cure the sadness. It took a lot for him not to just break down crying in front of them, not because he thinks it’d make him weak, he’s past that now. But because he got a killer headache last time, never again.

Fortunately, it seems the two children have already put the incident past them, and Kai can’t help but be a little envious. He wishes it was as easy for him to move on, but he’ll get there eventually, he hopes. One day at a time. But more than anything, how is JiWoo coping? Luckily, Seungkwan was able to update him a little more yesterday at lunch, even if it still left him feeling worried about her to no end. 

According to him, she just hasn’t been the same. It’s like she was mentally shutting down and unresponsive for the most part, just like after she woke up from fainting and witnessed the horrific scene near the front door. He gets it. He’s had his moments when he feels like he’s mentally shutting down, standing in the bathroom with his toothbrush in hand and the faucet running while staring off into the distance for god only knows how long. It’s something he can relate to, he knows it’s not easy. He can’t be sure if they’re suffering the same way, but what he does know is he’s slowly getting over it, and if he can, so can JiWoo, right?

Seungkwan doesn’t know all the details since he hasn’t been visiting her that much to begin with, saying he has his reasons. Kai understands, not everyone can just simply drop everything they’re doing and focus on a single person. That’s what he wouldn’t want his friends doing, wasting too much time coddling him or how else does he stand on his own feet again? But he can’t imagine how lonely it must be for JiWoo after going through such a traumatic event and yet, no one has time to visit you? He began to feel guilty for not being strong enough to visit her those days, but that changes now. He can’t go another day without seeing her, so he decided today is the day he reaches out again. 

Fortunately, since missing nearly a week of school, he’s offered to bring JiWoo her homework as well as help her catch up with it. She responds this time and agrees when he texts her after getting home. He takes a quick shower thanks to the torture Coach Jones put them through this afternoon before grabbing the snacks he bought on the way back. The elevator ride up to the seventeenth floor feels endless, long enough for his mind to start wandering. He reluctantly thinks about the incident that took place last weekend. It flashes through his mind like a sped-up compilation video. _Why did things turn out this way?_ It feels like contractors just don’t have the best luck, or they’re just cursed.

He pauses for a moment. _That night,_ when they saw curses written out in black ink, suspended in midair. _Could that have been—_

The elevator dings, disrupting his train of thought. He shakes it off and approaches the door of Junhui’s apartment, knocking and waits for someone to answer. He can’t help but steal a glance at Mr. Yoon’s residence, a weird feeling creeping up behind him. _Something’s not right…_ The door opens, almost startling him half to death, he nearly drops his snacks in the process. Once he has a firm hold on his stuff, a familiar face greets him at the door, causing Kai to smile back. 

“It’s been a while, Mr. Hwang,” Kai says, bowing before Minhyun steps aside to let the teenager inside. 

“It has, you’ve gotten taller!” The fox-like man grins. “You’re as tall as me now!” The two of them catch up for a moment after Kai learns JiWoo had just left for the bathroom when he arrived. Minhyun has been called in and is now the one treating JiWoo for her trauma and Kai couldn’t be any more relieved knowing it’s him. He can safely say she’s in good hands. Minhyun just happens to be a mutual friend of his father’s that Kai saw from time to time growing up. He’s always been helpful and is good at what he does.

When JiWoo returns to the room, the tips of her bangs are wet from what seems like splashing water on her face as she walks alongside the wall to keep her balance. Despite the worry bubbling in his chest, Kai greets her with a bright smile, ultimately causing her to smile and wave. “I shall take my leave now,” Minhyun announces when he gets up from his spot on the couch, he can tell she’s comfortable around Kai, and their session is over anyways. “I’ll see you next week, take care, JiWoo.” With that, the therapist leaves the apartment, leaving the two teenagers alone. 

“I, uh, I brought you some snacks!” Kai pulls out the bag once JiWoo takes her seat beside him safely. He pulls out a cold can of coke and a small box of macarons, mentioning he heard about Yeonjun visiting with Soobin and stealing her macarons. She happily takes them, smiling while pressing the cold can against her cheek. Her lips move, but it’s like she’s still muted. He manages to read “thank you” from her lips. _I guess she’s still recovering._ He was shocked to discover you can lose your voice from trauma. In this case, it’s psychological, witnessing something so horrendous has caused her to develop a psychogenic voice disorder. Knowing she’s currently being treated for it, he hopes her voice will come back very soon. He already misses it. 

They seem to be in an unusual predicament as he thinks of how to continue with this study session if she’s not going to be able to verbally communicate with him. Sure, she can try her best, but he doesn’t want her to push herself when she’s already dealing with a lot as is. The last thing she probably wants to do is force herself to talk, something she struggled with already before the incident. She’s just not a chatterbox like Beomgyu, and he knows full well what it’s like not to open up about your feelings. Believe it or not, Kai doesn’t like to talk about his feelings, he’s usually the one listening and comforting others, not the other way around. It’s no wonder why he struggled so much when opening up to Beomgyu and the others about how he’s truly been feeling these days. 

After thinking about it, he suggests she open up her memo pad or text him her replies, and she simply nods in agreement, typing up that’s what she’s been doing for a few days now. It makes him sad to read that, but he tries to keep his emotions in check, the last thing they need right now is Kai being an emotional wreck and not getting any homework done. With that, they get to studying. Everything goes well for the most part until JiWoo gets burnt out on all the work she has to make up. Feeling bad, Kai gives her a break and mentions if anything he can come back another day. 

He can’t help but notice the sad look on her face when he says that, almost like she doesn’t want him to leave. He understands that lonely feeling all too well. With his mother walking out on them and his father busy with work, he’s spent a reasonable amount of time home alone, left with his chaotic thoughts. Thoughts that maybe he’ll never be good enough. Maybe one day his father will walk out on him too? There’s still time. The man is an actor and acts out many different roles for a living, what if that kind and caring persona of his is just an act until he turns eighteen and he gives him the boot, forcing him to move out and fend for himself on his own? 

He doesn’t know a lot about JiWoo and her own family but wonders if it might be the same for her too. What if she’s not good enough, and everyone’s just waiting for the right time to give her the boot as well? It sounds like there must be some sort of trust issues he has going on the more he thinks about it, paranoia at its finest. But one thing he can trust is that whatever may happen, he will do his best to make it through, he’ll make sure JiWoo survives this too. They can get through this together, right?

So he promises to stay with her longer until her brother and roommates return, which seems to calm her down when he sees a smile tug at the side of her mouth. While it may have been a few days to a week apart (again, Kai isn’t sure how long it’s truly been), it might not seem long for others, but it feels like a lifetime for Kai. He missed her so much, his heart is just overflowing at the mere sight of her smile. He needed this, so badly. He feels like he can rest easier now knowing that he witnessed it himself that she’s alive and breathing. He feels a sense of completeness when he’s with her, as if she’s the missing puzzle piece he’s been searching for all this time. He’s aware how cringey that sounds, but he doesn’t care. 

He takes this time to sit with her in silence and live in the moment, appreciating life just a little more knowing he doesn’t have to walk this road alone, they can walk it together if they just try hard enough. Silence hasn’t always been easy to handle for Kai, usually, it made him anxious especially when it came to his parents, but at this moment with JiWoo it’s different. He wonders if this is what it truly means to be in love with someone? When you can just sit with that person and not have to say a word. 

After a moment, he feels her scoot closer to him, leaning on his arm and rests her head on his shoulder. Her slender arm slides under his until her fingers interlace with his, holding onto it with a gentle grip. It’s cold but warms up as his fingers gently fold over hers, returning the gesture with a bright smile on his lips. It feels peaceful sitting there with her, like this is normal and this is how it’s supposed to be. He knows how another’s touch or hug can give you a sense of security, so he doesn’t mind. If he can help her feel safe, then that’s all he can really ask for, right? After what they went through, he just wants them to be happy again with nothing holding them back anymore. He wants the hurting to stop, and it does when he’s with her. 

It worries him that JiWoo’s been going through the same things he went through, but alone. She’s been so distant and closed off, he’s almost sure of it she feels the same way he does. Helpless and alone. She probably doesn’t want to burden anyone either, and thinks it’s better to just pretend she’s okay when she’s really not. He’s aware JiWoo can easily slip into a dark state of mind if things don’t change. She’s in trouble if there’s no one there to help her stay away from those dark and lonely thoughts. It doesn’t help that her brother and other roommates are all too busy to stay home and look after her, even her friends have to make sure they don’t fall behind in their studies as well. But it breaks his heart to think she’s been lonely this entire time but can’t even speak up about it. She’s probably too scared to text it to anyone.

Without thinking, he squeezes her hand, causing her to lift her head from his shoulder and look at him. He stutters out that it’s nothing, but suddenly gets lost looking into her eyes. It’s such a cliché thing to happen but it does as they stare into each other’s eyes like that for what feels like a lifetime, that is, until JiWoo blinks and Kai can’t help but chuckle. He hears her finally make a sound with her throat, like a muffled whine. It makes his heart race with a goofy smile on his face. 

“You know, uh… I know you went through a lot, and I just wanted you to know that I’m still here for you. If you ever get lonely, you can call me.” He can see the look of confusion on her face, her eyebrows furrowing a bit like she doesn’t understand why he’s bringing it up. “I mean, I don’t want to assume anything but… it’s okay. Because I get lonely sometimes too.” 

She lets out a sympathetic noise; her expression morphing into a sad smile before she reaches out and wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him. He’s a little stunned at first but manages to wrap his arms around her small frame to return the embrace. He holds her tightly and longer than he should have, but she seems comfortable by the way she leans into him more, resting her face in the crook of his neck. He can feel her soft little breaths on his neck, it almost tickles, but he tries not to flinch as his face threatens to melt off onto the floor from how much he’s blushing. 

He relaxes after a moment, resting his head against hers, giving in to the urge to stroke her hair as they begin to cuddle. It doesn’t seem like she minds, if anything, she really likes it as she leans into him more. She feels so warm and safe in his arms that she feels like she could fall asleep knowing he’s there for her. It makes her wonder if he could stop the night terrors from happening, or even the nightmares? Thinking about how much sleep she’s been losing is depressing, she feels so tired and sick all the time. It’s so frustrating, why did it have to be this way? It’s not fair. 

Kai is thinking the same things. If he could go back and stop all of this from happening, he would in a heartbeat. It hasn’t been easy for him either, occasionally he has his moments too. Some nights he can’t sleep, some days he doesn’t feel like eating. So he feels like he can understand if those are some of the struggles JiWoo is going through right now, and he wants to help. They will get through this together. Moments later, he feels something warm and wet on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asks when they part. 

He sees the tears in her eyes, causing him to frown and apologize. He didn’t mean to make her cry but she simply shakes her head with a small smile, trying to say she’s not sad, she’s happy. “Thank you, Kai.” Her voice comes out in a whisper. Finally, someone noticed her feelings. It takes a few seconds for Kai’s mind to register it until JiWoo’s face is suddenly in front of him. Her left knee is sinking in between the cushion, forcing her to fall against Kai’s chest and nearly headbutting him in his jaw. 

It’s a complete accident, but for some reason, it feels like this was supposed to happen. The two teens stare wide-eyed at one another, trying to process the situation. Kai.exe has crashed while JiWoo.exe has stopped responding. They’re so close that if one of them leans forward, their lips will touch. And not going to lie to anyone, Kai wants to kiss her so badly. But it doesn’t seem right - not like this. Though, JiWoo doesn’t seem to have the same thinking process as Kai when she leans in even closer. Maybe she wants it too? Perhaps it’s not just Kai? That potential kissing moment is back. But just as her lips are about to meet his, the front door opens, causing the two to jerk away. 

Wonwoo stands before them, arms crossed and eyes narrowing at the inappropriate scene before him (right in front of his salad too, can you believe kids these days?) And she said he wouldn’t be meeting Kai in the same manner she met Mingyu. Lies! They were totally about to kiss just now and you can’t tell him otherwise.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” Wonwoo says, stalking up the glass stairs. “Just… don’t do it in living room. There’s guest room for a reason.” Kai instantly wants to die from embarrassment right there and then. But maybe after homecoming, he can die then instead. Once her brother is out of sight, she leans in and kisses his cheek, stunning him as she silently giggles, shifting until she’s sitting in his lap. He seems at a loss for words, and she can only smile at his expression. Again, this feels right as she puts her arms around his neck again so she doesn’t fall, Kai instinctively holds onto her, pulling her close to make sure of it. 

“Ignore my brother, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” she whispers after a moment. It helps how close she is otherwise Kai might have not understood her when she spoke so softly. He lets out an awkward sound, about to speak but decides not to as his lips form into a thin line and he avoids eye contact. He’s clearly nervous and she thinks it’s adorable to watch. He can tell her eyes never leave his face when he manages to look at her again. The smile she flashes captivates him once more, his heart feels like it could burst inside his chest, and he can safely say it now, he’s so in love with her. 

They continue to sit there in the silence, admiring each other up close as JiWoo fixes a few stray strands of his hair back into place. Thinking back on it now, he always thought he might have been too quick to say he fell in love with the gothic wallflower that everyone seemed to avoid. How can you say you love someone you just met? But he believes when you know, you know, and he’s loved her ever since. It’s been a pleasure getting to know her up until this point and he can see they’ve been getting closer. He recalls that little spell Chan talked about and how he said he cursed JiWoo. It makes him giggle like a dumbass and JiWoo quietly asks what’s so funny? He merely shakes his head, muttering it’s nothing as he notes the way her eyes move between his eyes and his lips a few times. He can’t help but do the same before he feels himself leaning in like his body suddenly has a mind of its own. 

Just before their lips can make contact, the sound of Vernon calling out JiWoo’s name from down the hallway snaps them out of it. “Are you done with your therapy session yet?” They turn and see him poke his upper body out carelessly. “I’m still naked, and you forgot to bring me a change of clothes.” A million thoughts are running in Kai’s head when he sees JiWoo look back at him with a worried look on her face. She’s shaking her head and trying to say ‘it’s not what it looks like!’ Then the front door opens again (JiWoo had given Seungkwan an extra key, so he could check in on her throughout the week). A loud shriek vibrates through the apartment - the scream being loud enough to hurt Kai’s ears but not loud enough to break the windows. 

JiWoo, startled, immediately rolls off Kai's lap only to miss and fall off the couch with a bang and a thud. There she lies on the floor holding onto her elbow. There’s nothing funny about hitting your funny bone on the coffee table after getting caught, almost doing something embarrassing. She’s ready to get rid of this cursed coffee table, all it does is give her horrible pain. Seungkwan dashes over, throwing Kai to the ground with an insane amount of strength. He picks up his best friend and presses her face into his manly bosom. 

“Who did this to you!?” he wails dramatically.

“Boo, babe, I think you’re suffocating her,” Vernon calmly says, helping Kai get up from the ground (and nearly flashing everyone in the process). Indeed, Seungkwan’s manly bosom is suffocating JiWoo, as her arms flail futility to get her best friend off her. She just survived a horrible attack, and she doesn’t need to die from suffocating in Seungkwan’s chest. (However, if it were Kai’s chest, maybe she wouldn’t mind). 

Seungkwan lets JiWoo (who falls back onto the carpet floor unceremoniously) go, she lies there and questions her life up to this point. She wonders if she can reincarnate as Miss Ava, so she’s endlessly pampered, that sounds way less stressful than being human if you ask her. “Were you two about to kiss?” Seungkwan asks the obvious, much to the utter embarrassment of Kai and JiWoo. The boy has no filter - none at all. All he gets in response is a stuttering Kai telling them no (a total lie but what do you expect, them admitting it? Hell no), and JiWoo giving them the middle finger. “How disappointing.” Seungkwan clicks his tongue and shakes his head. That’s when he notices his almost naked boyfriend standing in the room. 

It’s incredible to see how red his face gets before he breaks eye contact and demands to know what the fuck is going on here.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Kai says on behalf of JiWoo. “I don’t even know what’s going on here either!” He can’t help but feel confused. Why is Vernon naked in JiWoo’s place? Sure they’re best friends but— wait, when did Vernon show up? _Did he sneak in when her brother came home?_

“I needed my clothes washed and a shower, she forgot to bring me a change of clothes before her therapy session started, “ Vernon explains with a tired yawn. 

“Really? You sure you weren’t just about to have a threesome with those two?” Seungkwan jokes, causing Kai to facepalm and JiWoo to glare. “I’m kidding of course!”

“Boo…” her voice cracks when speaking; it’s soft and strained like she’s suffering from laryngitis. “Serious...ly. Fuck off.” 

“Love you too, brat,” Seungkwan says with fondness, unphased by her blunt comment. “But I’m honoured! Your first word since the incident was my name!” he gushes, clinging onto her and nuzzling his head into her neck obnoxiously. 

“Fuck,” she whispers defeatedly, but it’s progress compared to the last few days. 

“Actually, that’s not true,” Kai speaks up. “She said something earlier, but it was more like a whisper.”

“What did she say?” Seungkwan asks, leaning in like a nosy diva. 

“I’m not telling you,” Kai replies, scoffing and avoiding his eyes. As long as he can’t see Seungkwan, he won’t be afraid! 

“I bet it was something naughty!” Vernon jokingly teases with a shit-eating grin. JiWoo doesn’t have the strength to tell her other best friend to fuck off and just accepts her fate. Kai, while very much embarrassed, can’t help but chuckle at their antics. Unable to stand another moment of a half naked Vernon, JiWoo hurriedly runs off to fetch him the change of clothes she promised earlier, only to get stopped by her curious brother. 

“Is everything fine? Why does your guy friend need a change of clothes? Did you guys… did he…” He suddenly looks horrified. It takes a moment for her to process what he just said since she just spent the last half hour speaking in English and suddenly has to flip back to Korean for her brother. It never gets easier being bilingual for her.

“No, they’re for Vernon!” she squeaks out. She doesn’t need to say more when her brother figures it out and lets out a sheepish chuckle for thinking something else. “Boo showed up too,” she adds, glancing at the door.

“You can head back now. I was just curious!” Wonwoo shoos her away. “Have fun.” A warm smile spreads across his lips when she nods and smiles at him before walking out. He’s glad to hear her speaking again but wonders who it was that gave her that strength: Minhyun or Kai?

When JiWoo returns to the living room, she can see Seungkwan scolding Vernon for being careless about being so naked in front of others. At the same time, Kai has his body turned away from the couple, his hand covering his peripheral vision and praying he doesn’t see something he shouldn’t. He looks like he’s miserable until he sees JiWoo coming back down the stairs. She mouths an apology before chucking Wonwoo’s old clothes (the ones he doesn’t wear anymore) at Vernon, successfully hitting him in the face. He lets out a small yelp of pain (a little exaggerated for JiWoo’s taste, but she winces in regret) “Sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you in the face,” she whispers sharply.

“I’m just glad you didn’t hit me in the balls.” Vernon nervously laughs as he tugs them off his face. JiWoo brings her palm to her face, feeling embarrassed for him. Without a damn care, Vernon starts to undo his towel (much to JiWoo’s utter horror, Kai’s betrayal, and Seungkwan’s irritation) and starts dressing, putting on the (brand new JiWoo should add) boxers. Kai scrambles to drag JiWoo away to the kitchen, and they duck behind the counter to save their virgin eyes. 

“I’m so sorry!” JiWoo apologizes profusely. “I think he’s too tired to think straight! He’s not _this_ careless, I promise!” She turns away to cough from straining her throat while Kai gently rubs her shoulder, telling her to relax. He notices a bottle of water on the island counter and asks if that’s hers. She simply nods, clearing her throat, and he reaches for it. She thanks him before taking careful sips as they sit on the floor, taking a moment to collect themselves while listening to the faint ambiance of Seungkwan scolding his boyfriend yet again in the other room. It makes JiWoo start to giggle. What has her life come to?

“What is it?” Kai asks, curious like always. She simply shakes her head, leaning on his shoulder like earlier and lets out a content sigh. A smile spreads across his lips as he cherishes this moment with her. That’s until they see Seungkwan walk into the kitchen and place down a bag on the countertop, staring down at the little moment between the two of them. Kai feels the colour drain from his face when he sees Seungkwan’s eyes narrow like he’s ready to shove him away from JiWoo again. 

“You two look so cute like that!” Instead, they’re greeted with a gushing Seungkwan. Vernon pokes his head around the older and grins, saying something like ‘they’re gonna make hella cute babies one day’ utterly ruining the moment yet again. The teasing never ends. “Oh, right!” Seungkwan says, pulling out something from the reusable bag. “I brought dinner from Mansae Chicken!” 

JiWoo lets out a small gasp, whispering, “But their chicken costs so much!” as Kai helps her stand up.

“Well… Seungcheol bought it to make you feel better. And Vernon heard that chicken can heal your heart.” 

“I don’t know how,” Vernon pipes in. “I guess it’s just the magical powers of chicken.” From that one tote bag, Kai can see four paper plates, as if Seungkwan could predict his arrival. He doesn’t know it, but Kai feels warm and happy that JiWoo’s friends consider him to be part of their elusive group. Despite the popularity he has, it’s not all great. For one, it brings along a lot of envy from the other students, something he doesn’t like. Sometimes, he wishes he didn’t join TXT at all, but Kai knows he shouldn’t regret it too much. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be where he is now, with amazing friends and almost getting kissed by his adorable crush. He’s confident he’s made good friends that will be there through thick and thin. 

The group of four get settled in the dining room and dig into the delicious chicken, being mindful of JiWoo’s now smaller appetite, they give her a single drum stick and a small serving of the mashed potatoes and coleslaw while Seungkwan suddenly asks her if she’s planning to go to homecoming next Friday. JiWoo sighs at the thought, feeling drained already. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out right, so she opts to use her memo pad method again. When she shows Seungkwan her response, he reads it out loud so both Kai and Vernon can understand her silent words.

_‘I’m not sure? It doesn’t really sound fun, what’s the point?’_

“Memories,” Vernon states, nodding to an imaginary song in his head. Sometimes Kai wonders if Vernon is actually high but has never seen the boy even touch anything drug-related. “Senior year and memories before we all go to college.” 

JiWoo pauses, looking forlorn as the prospect of college comes into play. Like her friends, she’s worried about losing contact with them. After all, Seungkwan was the first person who encouraged her to practice her English despite the frustration she felt while learning. Vernon, on the other hand, was the first person who didn’t ask her to change her quirks - unlike the girls she’s been friends with. And Kai… she’s not sure if she could live without him now. Maybe she should go to homecoming - so that she has something to look back on if they ever drift apart. 

“ _‘But, don’t you need a date for it?’..._ I mean,” Seungkwan mutters, glancing at the other two, they stare at her for a moment until Kai breaks out into a silly grin. 

“If you don’t have one, I can be your date. Cause… I, uh, don’t have a date either.” 

“Dude, I thought you were gonna break out into song for her,” Vernon teases, punching Kai lightly in the shoulder. The drummer ducks his head in embarrassment from boldly saying that. Why would he ask her to homecoming like that? That’s so lame. But JiWoo doesn’t seem to mind, her face lighting up at his proposal. 

“I’d love to go to homecoming with you,” JiWoo manages to whisper, smiling when her voice actually comes out this time. “Now, I won’t third-wheel these two disgusting lovebirds.” Kai nods, albeit a tad bit painfully as her friends smile fondly at the effort JiWoo is making for Kai. They can see it, love is in the air. 

JiWoo consults Seungkwan on what to wear over text to make it easier to reference later. Meanwhile, Kai thinks it might not be the most romantic way to ask someone to homecoming, but at least he asked! That has to count for something, right? Vernon smiles knowingly behind his drumstick, a proud moment for Kai Huening. He isn’t as pathetic as Yeonjun said he was! And Kai considers that a massive step-up. 

* * *

Joshua stumbles over his own two feet as he staggers into the room, his eyes unstabled as he falls onto his bed, a growing headache festers in the back of his mind. He bites into his pillow, the pain becoming more and more unbearable, to the point that no matter how many painkillers he takes the pain refuses to subside. There’s a minor temptation to sever his nerve endings in order to save himself from this horrific agony - one that has kept the barista bedridden for the last few days. Groaning, he presses his face into his pillow, hoping to get some sleep today so he can go back to work tomorrow morning. The world will not stop when Joshua Hong gets a migraine - coffee has to be started, and people need their caffeine fix, no matter how bad it is for them. He lies on his side, staring at his alarm clock, blinking at the colourful numbers looking back at him. The pain in the back of his head throbs for another moment as if it’s hell-bent on keeping him up for yet another nightmarish time. 

Groaning, Joshua turns towards the wall, closing his eyes and praying for some sleep. He isn’t entirely sure how long he’s been sleeping, but when Joshua awakes again, he’s back in the tranquil forest, lying in the middle of the deserted road. Joshua sits up, eyes scanning the area as his mind works overtime trying to figure out what’s different in this dream. Everything looks the same; the wind softly blows overhead as Joshua picks a direction and starts walking. The road seems endless in either direction; the similar-looking trees begin to blur together into a massive green and brown blob. He looks around, frightened at what might lurk in the shadows of the forest. 

Like everything begins spinning, the world tumbling through a tight rabbit hole. Joshua’s eyes close, silently begging the god to stop. It doesn’t, and in the back of his mind, he hears someone vaguely familiar whisper to him. “ _It’s okay. I’m here to help. You’re safe now_.” Joshua’s eyes snap open, head twisting around, trying to look for the source of the voice, but there’s nothing but green for miles on end. Finding another person out in the middle of nowhere seems almost impossible from the looks of it. Just as he’s about to sit down underneath a large pine tree (and perhaps bawl his eyes out in utter frustration), that voice drifts through the forest once more, luring the young man.

As if the wind is picking up that soothing voice and carrying it to him when he needs it the most. Joshua looks behind him, staring at the endless forest; a feeling of fear sits at the pit of his stomach. But with the sun shining high above the sky, he has no excuse. Exhausted, he forces himself up and heads deeper into the forest, hoping to find the source of the voice. The trees wind upwards like vines, blocking the sun and making the woods look scarier than it should be. It’s like walking blindly through a torture house filled with inescapable traps, and he doesn’t know when danger will reach out and strangle the life out of him. 

He walks for what feels like an eternity, unable to see the edge of the forest. At this point, Joshua can’t turn back because he doesn’t know where the back is anymore. He’s trapped in his own dreams with no escape. 

* * *

**_New Post from @ChoiGoRen_ **

**🆁🅴🅽✪ (@ChoiGoRen) 5m ago**

It is a picture of Ren and a little boy with curly hair, choppy bangs, and a small spike at the back of his head. The little boy is grinning up at the camera. Minki has his head turned to kiss the little boy on the cheek. It’s adorable, but without a caption, fans will have no choice but to speculate who that little boy is. Some people think it’s just a random fan that caught him at a good time while others believe it’s Minki’s son or nephew. But, something like that would’ve leaked onto the various news sources, so then, who is that little boy? 

**#StreamLeftAndRight (@jellijelli)**

**Replying to @ChoiGoRen**

**OMG, does Ren have a secret son!? Minki! The ppl want answers!**

**Lithium (@Lithium012)**

**Replying to @ChoiGoRen**

**Aww, cute~! Tho… if he was ur son, he looks nthing like u**

**ƙყ (@quixhaotic_)**

**Replying to @ChoiGoRen**

**i think wed all b supportive if it is minki’s son!**

**_New Post from @ChoiGoRen_ **

**🆁🅴🅽✪ (@ChoiGoRen) 2m ago**

**To all my fans asking about the little boy in the pic w/ me; that’s my godson! (No, I will NOT be revealing his name so pls don’t @ me). Give my godson lots of love! Xoxo Ren**

* * *

It’s a few hours later when Vernon wakes up from his accidental nap, having passed out once his back met JiWoo’s soft bed earlier, but the smell of leftovers fills his nose and his stomach growls. JiWoo turns around from her desk (where she’s doing some more homework with some help from Seungkwan), snickering when he says he’s starved. Kai left a while ago after eating since he got called home. The look on his face after reading the text has JiWoo worried if something happened with his father or something else. But she didn’t want to pry when he gave her a big tight hug before leaving. She can only hope everything is okay.

Vernon and Seungkwan follow her out to the dining room to eat a second time with her brother, Mingyu, and Gigi (who are glad to see JiWoo finally out of her room). The little blur of darkness latches herself to Vernon’s side throughout the first half of the dinner, almost making it impossible for him to eat until her brother scolds her to let the poor guy eat in peace. She then latches herself to JiWoo, who decided she wasn’t hungry enough to eat a second time. 

The feeling of the little girl cuddling into her side makes JiWoo feel warmth and fondness, recalling how it was Gigi who was the one holding her hand after the incident, trying to comfort her. Even when she and her brother visited a few days later, JiWoo refused to come out of her room, but little Gigi sat outside patiently, waiting until falling asleep against the door. She could hear the sound of Mingyu picking up his sister, praising her for being so sweet to Wonwoo’s sister. JiWoo gently wraps an arm around Gigi, holding her closer as she feels some sort of wordless bond forming between them. Their brothers seem to notice and share a relieved yet joyous look between each other. It’s nice to see their sisters getting along, they weren’t sure how things would go if they didn’t when they’ve yet to announce their blooming relationship (soon, they’ll tell them soon). 

Mingyu manages to keep the conversation going with Seungkwan who has a lot to say (bless him and his inner gossip girl), the Jeon siblings quietly chime in every now and then (struggling to keep up with all the English going on) while Vernon tries to keep up the best he can despite still being tired. It’s been a while since he’s had a proper power nap. 

After thanking Mingyu for the food, the three teens return to JiWoo’s room since they can quickly tell the two adults might want some alone time together (much to Wonwoo’s distress and Mingyu’s anxiousness). Gigi (who will supervise the two adults) plans to have fun with the two playing twenty questions until her lovely husband (Chan) is free to play. 

It gets JiWoo thinking if Gigi is trying to play matchmaker with their brothers. Not that she’s against it, because it’s clear the two have feelings for each other. JiWoo’s just not sure about the little girl intervening, but she doesn’t want to say anything right now. Though she can’t help but start to think of her own feelings just then, her mind suddenly floods with thoughts of that certain someone. It’s a little overwhelming at first before she decides maybe she should talk about it with someone. 

“Can I tell you something?” JiWoo asks Vernon quietly and very nervously while they’re sprawled out on her bed. Seungkwan just excused himself to take a shower in her master bathroom after deciding they’re going to spend the night with her, so they have a good fifteen to thirty minutes until he’s finished. Vernon simply hums in reply. “You know how I went on and on about how relationships and PDA makes me uncomfortable? Well, lately, I noticed I’ve been quite curious about it.” 

“Curious like how?” Vernon grins, ready to tease her but refrains. 

“Well, I thought maybe it’s because I haven’t experienced it myself, and that’s why I don’t understand it. Can you promise not to tease me about this if I tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” He turns his head to see her adorable pouty face. 

“Promise me first that you won’t make fun of me for this,” she mutters, shifting to hold out her left pinky finger towards him.

“I’ll try not to,” Vernon chuckles while curling his pinky around hers. “It has to do with Kai, doesn’t it.”

“Goddamn it,” JiWoo turns her head away, groaning out of embarrassment. “Yeah, it does. I haven’t talked to Boo about it yet only because I know he’ll make a huge deal out of it, and I’m not ready for that kind of chaos right now.” She can hear Vernon laugh, agreeing with her. She takes a moment to collect her thoughts before facing her friend once more. “I think I’m starting to like Kai. You know, like… like, _like_ him.”

“Really now?” Vernon plays dumb for a second, as if it wasn’t obvious when they caught the two almost kissing before. “What makes you think that?”

“We’ve held hands a few times for certain reasons, but I notice… I liked the feeling. It’s a lot different than when I hold your hand or Boo’s hand. Yeonjun’s hands feel like sandpaper, I don’t know what the fuck is up with his skincare, but something’s wrong with it.” Vernon’s not sure whether he should laugh or be concerned. “Anyways... earlier I kind of wanted… I had this urge to kiss Kai.” There’s a three-second lag before Vernon’s eyes widen, and he turns over to listen carefully. “But I’ve never kissed a guy before, and I wasn’t sure what I was doing…” 

“It’s okay. We all have to start somewhere, right?” He reaches out to pat her on the shoulder. “So was that the only reason why didn’t you kiss him?” 

“My brother walked in and caught us in the living room before I could,” she says disappointedly. Vernon frowns, also feeling disappointed. “But he went up to his room. But then you showed up, and then Boo showed up…” Vernon reminds her of how she fell off the couch while laughing, saying how comical it was. “Whatever, so I wanted to ask how you and Boo got together, but try to spare me the gross details, okay?” 

“Sure,” Venom chuckles. He goes on to explain that one snowy night at the movie theater, where he kissed Boo for the first time. JiWoo luckily doesn’t gag or make a fuss and instead prods for more information. So he tells her a little more about how things led up to that moment. It was going on for a while, the subtle flirting, the loving looks, and gentle touches. By the end of the small story, JiWoo is sitting up hugging her pillow tightly, her face as red as a tomato when she compares all the romantic gestures to what she thought were normal gestures from Kai. The fond looks he’d give her, the bright and genuine smiles, his gentle touch, and heartfelt words. All she can think about is that moment when their eyes met, and it felt like time stopped. 

_I should have kissed him._ It’s clear, JiWoo’s feelings make sense now. She thought maybe it was just hormones and not something she had control of. She reads about it all the time; she sees it in movies; that potential kissing moment. She thought it was just a natural response when you’re that close to someone, but it was hard to tell if it was just that or if it was something more? Even thinking about it now, she feels like it was more from the heart than just stupid hormones. _I should have kissed him._ She regrets not being bolder or confident but realizes there’ll be a ‘next time’, hopefully. 

Seungkwan returns from his shower, fresh and squeaky clean while towel drying his hair. He jokingly asks if they were talking shit behind his back, to which Vernon laughs and nods, saying they were talking about how amazing he is, which causes the oldest to get flustered. Suddenly, a look of guilt washes over him and he lets out a dejected sigh, prompting JiWoo to ask him what’s wrong? Did they tease him too much? Is that even possible?

“Sorry I haven’t been around,” Seungkwan says softly. “Just been going through some stuff,” he adds on. JiWoo frowns, feeling bad for him despite not knowing what’s been bothering him. She doesn’t push him for the details and simply nods, letting him know she understands. “I haven’t told you about it before but, I also suffered trauma in the past and well, I don’t think I’d be that great at supporting you through yours.” 

“I get it, don’t worry. It’s hard, I wouldn’t want you to risk your mental health to help mine,” she says softly, reaching out to hold his hand. She gives it a small squeeze. “I’m finding ways to cope with it myself, so don’t worry about me, okay?” 

“But—” 

“You can always support me by just being there. We don’t have to talk either, ‘cause words are hard, you know?” 

“For you, we all know I’d never shut up,” Seungkwan says with a sheepish chuckle. “But I hear what you’re saying. Thanks for saying something about it, I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Of course, I promised to communicate better, didn’t I? I’m doing my best,” she replies with a shy smile. 

“Thank you for that,” Vernon speaks up, throwing his arm around her small shoulders and pulling her into his side for a hug. Seungkwan joins in on the hug until JiWoo is smothered with their love, squirming under them as they laugh. Though, she doesn’t mind this for once and actually feels warm and secure, like they’re a weighted blanket. Then something cracks. 

“Okay, get off, I think you broke my hip!” JiWoo jokes while pushing her best friends off her fragile body. They go rolling off in opposite directions, Vernon tumbles off the bed by accident and they have a good laugh about it after making sure he didn’t break anything either. 

* * *

Joshua awakens in the forest again, his eyes wide - darting around like a cornered animal, who knows they’re about to die. He scrambles to get up, his legs barely working as his shoes scrape against the soft forest floor. With one thing on his mind, he runs, barely looking back as the pain ricochets in his skull—that demonic headache returning like a parasite, leeching off his blood. _Don’t stop_ , a voice tells him, an invisible force pushing his body forward as his exhausted legs continue to carry him. _They’ll get you, and I won’t be able to protect you._ The brunet doesn’t stop; he couldn’t stop, not when the sky is falling onto him; an explosion from Heaven as blue turns into grey. Monochrome takes over his world as he scans his surroundings.

Where is he? Why are his mind and body screaming at him to keep running, and who is he running from? Though those questions may never be answered, Joshua hopes one day he’ll find them. Just as long as he’s able to escape first, he turns his head back for just a moment, hearing his blood run like waterfalls in his ears; his heart pounds against his chest, and his lungs scream at him for air. He takes his first breath in what seems like forever - the air slicing against his throat; breathing hurts. 

Somehow, he almost trips over a small pebble in his desperate attempt to escape, colliding with the road once more. Coughing, Joshua pushes himself up, arms and legs weak from losing so much blood. He collapses onto the harsh asphalt once more, finding himself unable to carry on, simply too exhausted to keep going. The more he tries to run, the more chances he’ll surely die. Weakened, Joshua uses the last of his strength to roll onto his back, his hair fanning out around him as he peers up at the greying sky. It’s odd; there’s still a sun shining its grey rays down, the clouds are still floating through the monochrome sky with no indication of rain. And finally, that beautifully soft breeze still blows, ruffling a bit of Joshua’s hair. His eyes threaten to close, his fatigued body _begging_ him to sleep, but his mind tells him not to. Sleep now, and you’ll be sleeping here forever. But in his waterlogged state of mind, sleeping for forever doesn’t sound horrible. 

With the last of his mental resources gone, Joshua closes his eyes and hopes to sleep forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow is the story moving forward finally? Will we ever learn who the villian of this story?


	17. And When The Darkness Calls Me Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from: [Magic Island](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5r3D19TuiPQ&ab_channel=TOMORROWXTOGETHER-Topic) by TXT (Tomorrow x Together)
> 
> Happy Joshua (Joshuji) Day!  
> This chapter is basically Extra Ordinary's Joshua's backstory. 
> 
> Finally, the villian appears. Who could he be?  
> Plus, thank you to all who reads this fic and sends us kudos. We truly appreicate your support.
> 
> Trigger Warning however, there are scenes with death in them (last scene) and ones with extreme torture.

There’s the sound of shrieking, childish laughter as Jihoon makes the treacherous trek towards Jeonghan’s apartment. Despite going to these friend parties (as Jeonghan says even if Jihoon isn’t really the CEO’s friend, he still greatly appreciates the effort Jeonghan takes to make the younger feel included), Jihoon never feels like he belongs. Maybe it’s because of how his mind works - taking something so small and creating a massive mountain out of a gopher hole (he’s aware the saying uses mole holes, but Jihoon doesn’t like how moles look. It reminds him way too much of Wonwoo and he doesn’t like that). He raises his hand to knock, taking a deep breath in to calm his nerves down. Yes, he has taken his medication and yes, he is as clear-headed as he can be, when the door jerks open it almost scares the living shit out of him. 

Seungcheol stands in the doorway with the hallway light shining down over him, making him look more angelic than he already is (god, Jihoon is so whipped for him). Jihoon can feel his mouth go dry as he looks up, wondering why anxiety even plagues him when he could shove all of his worries into a garbage pit. But then, Wonpil’s innocent comment comes flooding back in, telling him that he can’t survive without Seungcheol around. It’s a bitter reality that coats his tongue. Maybe he shouldn’t have come to this friend party thing. Again, he isn’t even friends with Jeonghan - so the message is clear: Jihoon Lee doesn’t belong there. 

But he isn’t able to escape, not when Seungcheol picks him up like he weighs nothing and twirls him around the foyer all before planting a massive kiss on Jihoon. It melts him like chocolate syrup over an ice cream sundae and for a brief moment, everything seems to be okay. 

“Oh gross,” Jeonghan grimaces, covering Chan’s innocent eyes from the love that is happening. “Channie, promise uncle Jeonghan that you won’t be gross until you’re thirty.” 

“Hi, uncle Jihoonie!” Chan shouts instead, waving his arms at them. “Miss Ava really misses you!” 

“Does she now?” Jihoon asks, humouring the young boy. Chan breaks free from his uncle’s grasp and runs over to the pink-haired man, grabbing him and dragging him towards the living room. There sits someone more shocking than Seungcheol just kissing him out of the blue (even if Jihoon did need it) is seeing Joshua there, playing with Miss Ava. 

Joshua looks up and smiles confusedly at the person there. “Oh hello. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Joshua, um, I guess I’m Jeonghan’s partner.” 

“We’ve met before,” Jihoon points out, taking a seat on the floor close by. Miss Ava slips away from Joshua, heading towards the university student and rubbing her scent glands on him. “I frequent the coffee shop you work at quite a bit.” Something about Joshua leaves a bitter taste in Jihoon’s mouth - he’s not sure if he should be fearful of the older man or feel immense pity for him. He wonders what it’s like to start losing your memory at the age of twenty-four. 

Chan doesn’t seem to notice, talking to Joshua as if there isn’t something odd about him. Jihoon bites his lower lip to keep himself from saying something stupid or snippy. He tenses when he feels Seungcheol plop down next to him, wrapping his arm over Jihoon protectively. (Miss Ava uses this opportunity to scent the detective as well). Jihoon leans in, inhaling the fresh scent of pine from his cologne. 

“I didn’t know they were together,” Jihoon mutters. 

“Neither did I, but it doesn’t seem like Joshua remembers who I am,” Seungcheol answers, looking at his best friend and now his new boyfriend staring at one another with such devotion. He wonders if he looks at Jihoon that way - as if the shorter male holds everything in his hands. He tugs Jihoon onto his lap, cradling him like he’s the most fragile thing in this apartment (when in reality, it’s probably Chan - who is being smothered in love by both Joshua and Jeonghan). 

“What’s wrong?” Seungcheol asks, quiet enough for Jihoon to hear but not loud enough for the rest. Jihoon is silent for a moment, unable to form his words - they feel bitter in his throat, stuck in his mind. How does Seungcheol know that the younger is suffering from some inner turmoil? Is he that obvious in his distress? 

“Can I stay over tonight?” Jihoon asks, eyes fluttering close at the feather-light touch of his lover. “I just… I just need to get away from my music tonight.” _It’s driving me up the wall and I can’t do anything about it._ But he doesn’t say that final part - not when he’s seen as some protege of music, guided under the one and only Wonshik Kim. Jihoon can’t help but hate himself for having such a title when it’s not true at all. 

“Okay,” Seungcheol says, resting his chin on Jihoon’s head. “You look tired, I think some sleep is in order for you.” He feels Jihoon nod from underneath, a sigh leaving his lips as he watches Joshua pick up Chan, treating Jeonghan’s nephew like his own child. However, a flash of grey flickers in Joshua’s eyes as a smile one could interpret as sinister spreads across the barista’s face. Jihoon blinks, chalking it up to sleep deprivation but a part of him wonders if what he saw is real. 

A lot of reality seems to blur with fantasy and for a moment Jihoon thinks he’s hallucinating. Not sleeping for forty-eight hours straight can do that to someone. His anxiety keeps him up until the early morning light - not allowing him to sleep for more than a couple of hours a night. It’s a brutal cycle of depression and anxiety; a self-hatred building at the pit of his stomach. 

“How long have you two been together?” Joshua asks suddenly, scaring the two out of their little bubble as Jeonghan excuses himself to get Chan ready for bed. 

“Six years now,” Seungcheol answers with ease. Has it been that long? Jihoon can barely remember, which makes him hate himself even more. How does he not know how long he’s been in a relationship? It’s pathetic, honestly. “Jihoon doesn’t really like to air his private life to others and I respect that.” 

“That’s a little odd isn’t it?” Joshua absentmindedly says. “Does it mean that you don’t appreciate your partner? But, I wouldn’t listen to me. What do I know about relationships?” He laughs lightheartedly, but the words stab themselves into Jihoon’s heart and soul. Is that how people see them? Does Seungcheol see that too? 

Seungcheol chuckles as well, straining a bit as if it’s more awkward than pleasant. “No, it means you don’t feel the need to flaunt it to everyone. Which is also fine. Not everyone needs to know about it and if you love each other very much then that’s all that should matter.” Joshua nods, agreeing to those wise words. But Jihoon doesn’t comment - in fact, he’s trapped himself inside his mind, suffocating from those words. They stab themselves into his heart and soul; making him wonder if that’s really what Seungcheol thinks or he’s just saying that because he has to. 

A few minutes pass awkwardly as Seungcheol and Joshua make pleasant conversation, the barista occasionally beckoning Jihoon to converse. The university student doesn’t reply, his mouth feeling dry as his eyes slowly droop. God, staying up for two days is not a good idea at all. It’s brutal to handle and at any moment, Jihoon can feel himself falling asleep. Thankfully, that’s when Seungcheol decides they’ll take their leave and bids both Joshua and Jeonghan a farewell, helping Jihoon onto his back as if the younger is a child. 

But at this moment, Jihoon can’t complain, not when he’s about to faceplant into the carpet of the hallway. He buries his face into Seungcheol’s neck, holding onto the elder tightly, softly muttering, “I love you.” Seungcheol hums in response, telling the younger that he loves him too - even though he knows Jihoon loves him. He just has a different way of expressing it and Seungcheol knows that, loving that aspect of the younger. Sometimes, he wishes Jihoon could see that about himself. 

* * *

Seungkwan can feel his eyes close as his math notes begin to blur together; groaning, he pushes it away and lays his head down on his notebook. Maybe a small nap might help but when he lifts his head again to stare at formulas that he’ll never use the numbers are still blurring. A sign to stop for the night; he tells himself he’ll study it in homeroom but knowing him, he’ll probably forget until lunchtime when he’s rushing to cram as much information into his mind as possible. Stretching, he looks over at his clock; the glowing pink numbers reading out twelve o’ four, another indicator to head to bed. He pushes himself out of his desk chair and opens the bedroom door, only to step out into a field. 

Blinking, he looks behind him; panicking when the door to his bedroom disappears right in front of him - like pixels in a video game. Terrified, Seungkwan looks around; a scream bubbling at the base of his throat while his brain attempts to rationalize it. _Close your eyes, it’s all a dream_. He squeezes his eyes shut, practicing those breathing exercises Minhyun taught him before opening them again. It’s not a dream, nor a hallucination - he’s really in a field with luscious tall grass and blooming wildflowers. He lets out a scream lasting longer than five minutes and that would’ve deafened anyone within a fifty-mile radius.

“This is insane!” he shouts out, running his fingers through his growing curls. He squats down and continues to rationalize with himself but even his supposedly rational brain stops working. Nothing makes sense - how does one transport from a cozy bedroom in the middle of the night (and _fall_ mind you) to a field during the day and in spring? “How am I still talking!?” His price doesn’t stop his speech; in fact, he isn’t sure his own power is activated. Shaky, he stands, his legs trembling as he cautiously takes a step forward. Solid ground. 

His breathing quickens, his mind losing it as he continues to wander the seemingly abandoned field; the grass tickling his bare feet. By the time he gets out of here, he’s going to have so much grass seeds stuck to his pajama pants (and he just _washed_ them too!) For what seems like hours, he wanders in no particular direction in hopes of finding something or someone nearby. All of which proves futile as there’s nothing but grass in sight. A strange detail indeed, Seungkwan could remember back to his time in Jeju - noting all the butterflies and tiny mice that scurry through these types of fields. Why is there nothing here? 

Letting out a yell of frustration, he sinks down in a clearing, burying his face into his hands; body shuddering. “I want to go home!” he wails to the sky, as if that could help him with his situation - but anything is better than nothing. “I want Seungcheol! I want my mom!” He curls up, burying his face into his arms as sobs explode in his mind - this is just too much for the poor student to comprehend, his mind loses itself. And as if some deity from above heard him, a soft breeze washes over him, stroking his hair gently. A feeling of calmness comes to him within seconds - an odd feature to something so fearful. As Seungkwan lifts his head, the wind changes course, pushing him forward. 

He gets up and follows the advice of the wind. Within ten minutes he finds himself in a deep green lush forest; where the trees grow towards the sun, covering the ground with shade. Tiny rays attempt to poke through the gaps in the leaves but Seungkwan doesn’t have time to admire the scenery - not when the wind continues to push him forward. He stumbles over large protruding roots that litter the forest floor until he stumbles upon a clearing. The sun shines brightly down on the light green floor as grass and flowers bloom like no tomorrow. A scene straight out of a picture book in his childhood. A jolt of pain clenches itself painfully around his heart as he attempts to brush those memories from his mind. Everything that could’ve belonged to him just disappeared in a matter of seconds. 

Hesitantly, he inches forward to the middle of the clearing, scared of what might jump out at him. When Seungkwan jumps over the final root, he sees a head of reddish-brown hair resting against the green. He lets out a loud yelp, tripping over his own two feet and landing hard on his bottom. An angry groan explodes out of him before he could stop himself and within seconds he lets out an annoyed yell. “Oh my god! Are you kidding me!?” He slaps his hand over his mouth, eyes wide; a startling realization comes over him. First of all, he’s not alone, there is a person and sentient wind here with him. Secondly, his yell would’ve scared any living thing around the pair and thirdly, the person with the auburn hair doesn’t stir. Why?

He waits a couple of minutes before crawling over to the sleeping (or dead but Seungkwan doesn’t want to think about that) person. The man lying on his back wears a deep maroon sweater with a collared shirt underneath. His eyes are closed, his long lashes brushing gently against his cheeks. The closer Seungkwan looks at the person, the more his brain attempts to match the face to someone he’s seen before. He sits there, tilting his head as the wind dies down; the rustling of the trees silencing. 

_Oh,_ he thinks, eyebrows jolting up in recognition. _It’s the man from the coffee shop!_

As if he’s thrown into a vortex; the forest disappears, melting away in the background to reveal Seungkwan’s hallway ceiling. His eyes flutter open, staring at the soft eggshell white instead of light blue. Confused, he sits up; looking around the hallway - it is still dark outside, but the early morning is deceiving. Down the hall, Seungcheol’s bedroom opens; the brunet’s hair sticking up as he lets out a massive yawn. His sleepy eyes blink twice, staring at Seungkwan sitting on the hallway floor. 

“Why are you on the floor?” he asks, walking over and helping Seungkwan up. “How long were you there?” Neither question could be easily answered by the young male; he’s not even sure as to why or how he’s on the hallway floor. When the younger brunet doesn’t respond, Seungcheol drops the subject altogether - knowing Seungkwan will tell him when he’s ready. 

“Well,” Seungcheol says, ruffling Seungkwan’s hair. “You better get ready for school, since you’re already up.” With that the elder heads back down the hallway, leaving Seungkwan confused in his bedroom. Was that experience just a dream? As he begins preparing for the day, he gets his answer in the form of grass seeds sticking to the hem of his pajama pants. 

* * *

The sound of static fills the darkened room; like background music in a haunted house - the feeling of being watched is forever present when one is locked away in the depths of the subconscious like Jisoo is. But being hidden away in an endless subconscious gives the grey-haired male nothing but time on his hand. The metallic room is illuminated by the large clock’s bright red numbers, shining a sinister shadow across the male’s face. He peers up at the large metal bolted door sitting in front of him; mocking him like a childhood bully. 

But a few weeks ago, the metallic door begins to rust - the bolts turning a rusty red as the clock continues to tick down behind him. Jisoo remembers peering back at the large, looming clock, his cold grey eyes watching the minutes speed up, like someone holding onto the fast-forward button on a remote. He looked back at the door; grinning as a thought filtered through his mind. _Soon_ , a voice told him, the cold air sending a satisfying shiver down Jisoo’s spine. He leaned back against the covered milk crate, biding his time as the gears in his mind crank. 

A sadistic budding plan blooming like a toxic flower in the middle of a dying swamp. 

Now, the door in front of him is all but corroded away, the former silver-grey now being a rusty dark red, crumbling away at the edges. Jisoo patiently waits, his hardened eyes narrowing at the sight, mind, and body trained to keep a lock on his target. All that anger he has been building over the last four years finally bubbles over, resting against the back of his throat like a tumour. The door in front of him swings open with an irritating creak, pissing the young male off even more. Nonetheless, his opportunity for freedom is nothing more than being handed to him on a silver platter. 

He stands, stretching his unused legs before brushing off the dust that’s been filtering in the room. He peers through the dark unknown that lies beyond the rusty door. Rolling his shoulders back, he takes his first step through the door, allowing the metal door to swing close once more - the clock freezing as Jisoo disappears. 

His eyes snap open, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar area. Jisoo sits up, shaking his hair out of his face as he scans the room. He glares at the guitar in the corner - scowling at the disgustingly friendly nature of the room. The kindness suffocates him, forcing him out of the bedroom. The living room isn’t much better, looking like something out of a ‘how to be a textbook boy-next-door’ guidebook. Jisoo wouldn’t be shocked if there’s a book like that on this guy’s bookshelf. Shrugging it off, he continues his stride - looking into every little nook and cranny of the apartment, determining nothing useful in his disposal. 

Scowling, Jisoo rips open the front door (breaking the lock in the process) and steps out into the hallway; leaving the apartment door hanging open. He strolls down the empty hallway, carefully and rigidly exploring as he fails to hear anything interesting in the dead silent hall. He presses his hands against a door, his eyes closing momentarily, feeling a metaphorical playing card slip into a card slot. When Jisoo opens his eyes again, the grey glows a brilliant neon green as they peer through the hardwood. 

“Sleeping bodies,” Jisoo tells himself, his voice sounding unnaturally soft for his liking. “No contractors.” He cracks his neck a bit, heading to the upper floors; scanning each room for a discrepancy in body heat and aura while grinning maniacally. 

He remembers thanking the woman with an aura/body heat-seeking vision power he took years ago. At that time, his copy power was rather new and he was rather shaky at it, however, he learned that taking the power from her, at the time, proved to be unnaturally easy. The poor mother was sitting at the back of the truck and begging for her life as Jisoo approached her; only to pull the playing card out of her body like a metaphorical knife. He remembers how lifeless her body was when he filed the card away; his body’s tiny nerves exploding like firebombs. Murdering her was the hard part. 

Jisoo pauses in front of a door on the second floor, his head tilting as his eyes scan the room. A soft red aura blends in the air as something floats vicariously behind the person. A sharp grin spreads across the male’s face, his hand already reaching out to grab the knob when a sharp pain shoots through his spine. Stumbling, he grabs onto his head; his body slamming against the wall as something or someone trashing inside of his mind. The metaphorical playing card slips out of the slot, leaving behind a steel grey in its wake. 

“Fuck,” Jisoo hisses as the pain in the back of his mind continues to grow like a budding plant, uncoiling itself from the depths of the ground. He wants to scream out in agony but he bites it back; less he wants to give away his position - god knows how many nosy fuckers there are lurking around in the building. Groaning, he staggers away, making a mental note of the apartment number. Room two oh eight. If the pain didn’t expand like a balloon, Jisoo would’ve broken in; hoping he isn’t hallucinating over the possibility of another contractor inside. One with what seems to be telekinesis. 

Jisoo staggers down a flight of stairs, tumbling when he steps onto the concrete stairwell, his eyes unable to hold still for longer than three seconds. The pain is almost blinding from how it attaches itself to his brain, like someone inside is fighting for control. He could feel the shackles that once held him confined begin to wind themselves around his body, tugging him into the pit of darkness - something he’s been accustomed to all his life. His vision fades as he takes one more step, only for the world to suddenly pull from under him and leaving him in a pile on the cold hard floor. 

* * *

The sound of S.Coups screeching in the morning after his care blanket has been taken off is enough to scare anyone awake. Seungcheol jumps, hitting his back against the table as the cockatoo flaps his wings, stretching them out (all while accidentally smacking Woozi awake, much to the latter’s distress). Jihoon snickers in the background, his eyes turning up into crescent moons as his delicate hands wrap around his mug. Seungcheol opens the cage door, letting S.Coups out before heading into the kitchen to prepare breakfast; from the dining area, he could hear S.Coups squawk out something ominous. 

“Be careful,” he says, his head dipping into his seed bowl. “Be careful!” The older man pauses, unsure of what to do as his hands tremble, betraying his sense of serenity. Can birds read minds? Is this a trait that the brunet is completely unaware of? If so, can S.Coups learn how to stop screaming at seven-thirty am or is that asking too much of him? But one thing remains at the forefront of Seungcheol’s mind - his latest vision. He can hear it now, police sirens wailing in his ears as the roads around him begin to crumble - buildings corrode away, crashing down so easily as someone stands in the midst of all that chaos. But Seungcheol still can’t see the face of the other person, dust still covering the most important detail. He almost wakes up, hoping his vision is simply another nightmare that normally plagues him after a vision - but it seemed all too real. 

S.Coups finally quiets down the moment Woozi emerges from the cage, snuggling up to her mate as she steals a piece of strawberry from inside their other bowl (a true fruit salad minus the mayonnaise as Seungcheol would affectionately call it, much to Seungkwan’s utter embarrassment).

“Cheollie,” Jihoon says, snapping Seungcheol out of his trance. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. I’m okay, just a bit tired.” He smiles at his lover, who looks at him with an arched eyebrow, not saying anything. “Last night was a bit—” 

He’s cut off by some rather loud and dramatic footsteps (courtesy of their resident drama queen) thumping down the stairs, as Seungkwan slides into the kitchen, grabbing his already prepared lunch box and stealing a piece of toast slathered in avocado and a bit of salt and pepper. His eyes narrow at the two of them, wondering if some shenanigans happened between the two of them. Judging by how red Jihoon’s face is, some shenanigans did happen. Oh, the horror. 

“Late again?” Seungcheol asks, preparing another slice of bread as if he didn’t do anything wrong. “You need to stop those late night study sessions.” If the older could even call them that, considering how much he hears Seungkwan giggling to himself and swooning over a certain brunet boy. Seungkwan proceeds to roll his eyes, chewing on his slice of bread before lifting a grateful hand to the detective and the producer before rushing out the door. Both Seungcheol and Jihoon eye the forgotten backpack on the counter, looking at the clock and counting down how long it takes for the high schooler to realize he’s forgotten his backpack. Thirty seconds later, with some crumbs still sticking to his cheeks, Seungkwan slides back into the kitchen (shoes off thankfully), grabbing his bag and booking it out the door. 

“I’ll see you later!” Seungkwan shouts, pulling on his sneakers; allowing the front door to slam shut. Jihoon mutters about being late for class, standing up on the stool and giving a quick peck on the elder’s cheek - still blushing furiously as he gathers up his coat and slinks out. 

Seungcheol stands there, chewing on his own avocado toast, waiting for the house to explode in chaotic noise as it often does in the mornings. But that doesn’t come and for once he can hear himself think. The new found silence is welcoming, only for his soul-crushing thoughts to plummet down upon him, like a fallen tree. He could feel the weight of disappointment fill his stomach as he trudges upstairs to his bedroom to prepare for the day. A sudden influx of contractor related murders is enough to put anyone in the police force down, making all of them wonder if they even have what it takes to take care of the city. 

He shakes those self-destructive thoughts out of his head; deciding it isn’t worth the mental grief. He tightens his tie, heading back downstairs to grab his briefcase when he hears the collective voices of Woozi and S.Coups “singing” in the kitchen. 

“ _No, I don’t wanna cry. No, I don’t wanna cry._ ” Seungcheol looks over at his two birds, nestled against one another and singing; Woozi’s voice softer than her mate’s. He gives them a slight smile and a wave. 

“Okay guys, be good!” he shouts, opening the front door and stepping out. He hears a squawk of acknowledgment as the words of the song continues to linger in the back of his mind. “ _Don’t play with my heart, cause you know that I want you. If you leave I will wait. I’ll be waiting for you._ ” 

His car slows in front of the Together Apartments building near the local cemetery, his eyes and mind slowing down mentally; debating whether or not to check up on Joshua. Though it’s not necessary (it hasn’t been for the past year or so), something nags at the back of his mind; grinding against his thoughts until he parks his car against the sidewalk. Swallowing, he unbuckles himself and heads towards Josuha’s first-floor apartment. His heart drops the moment he sees the apartment’s front door hanging wide open. 

_Is Joshua okay?_ Seungcheol enters the apartment slowly, his eyes scanning around the room; trying to see if someone else is there. But nothing looks out of place - all of Joshua’s guitar picks are still in his fishbowl, the younger’s acoustic guitar rests against the loveseat in the living room. As the older explores the home more - that sinking feeling Seungcheol had from the moment he saw the door limply hanging open grows like a budding tree. He heads into the bedroom, looking at the unmade bed and the fallen alarm clock. A minor struggle but nothing significant - it could mean anything, Joshua being in a rush this morning or he’s been kidnapped. 

The detective then heads to the bathroom, trying to gather as much information as he could. The bathroom is nothing more than a mess - something Joshua isn’t prone to, the normally clean white tiles are nothing more than light brown as if rust had started forming on them. Seungcheol walks over, his critical eye taking figurative pictures of the bathroom. Everything seems to be in place, except the bathroom mirror. A black tarp hangs tightly on the mirror, with multiple lines of masking tape holding the plastic in place. The detective cautiously walks over, his hand reaching out to tug the tarp away; only for something akin to a flash of lightning striking down to attack him. Yelping, Seungcheol jumps back, slamming himself against the cold bathroom walls. His eyes widen; staring at the dark aura leaking out of the mirror, flowing down like a polluted waterfall. 

He books it out of there as soon as possible. 

His mind focuses on one thing as he darts through the hallways; eyes scanning frantically. _Don’t think about the negative_ , he tells himself as he yanks the stairwell door open. _He’s somewhere here in this building. You just have to find him._ But that hope begins to dwindle the more areas Seungcheol searches; but when he yanks open the door heading up to the second floor, he pauses. Lying on the concrete ground is Joshua, his body is folded in an awkward way, and for a moment Seungcheol thinks he’s dead. Only for the younger to let out a groan, untwisting his body and standing up like nothing had happened. 

“Ouch,” Joshua says, shaking his head slightly. For a moment, a soft glowing yellow light surrounds the barista, quickly shrinking away. Seungcheol blinks, unsure if he’s hallucinating or not. “Stupid fu—”

“Joshua?” Seungcheol says, walking cautiously over. “Are you okay?” The barista looks over at him, eyes hardening for a moment before softening in what seems to be confusion or irritation. The brunet tilts his head before pulling himself up and brushing off his pajama bottoms. 

“I’m fine.” He flashes the other a bright, cold smile, walking over to the older and giving him a firm squeeze on the shoulder. “You better get going, before you’re late.” Seungcheol numbly nods, watching the younger male slip down the stairs, his hand reaching up to the shoulder Joshua squeezed. He jolts when he feels his shoulder, previously warm, feeling ice cold against his fingers. His mind, too frazzled to comprehend anything, pushes it away when Minghao comes down the stairs. The dark-haired male pauses, looking down at the anxious detective before lifting his hands up. 

“I’m not going to arrest you,” Seungcheol says, eyebrows raising. “You should know I’m not like the others.” 

“Uh… It’s just instinct,” Minghao says, eyes looking everywhere but at Seungcheol. “Let’s just say, a lot of the police force doesn’t like me, especially when I… tip over a full trash bin over them.” Seungcheol almost smacks himself in the face. 

“Just try not to do it here… I really don’t want to deal with yet another supernatural incident.” He grimaces, remembering all the times he had to deal with a random flying tree in the middle of the main road, or when the middle school’s windows exploded, or when a random snowstorm blew into the city and knocking everything over in its destructive path.

“Alright,” Minghao replies, hiking up his shoulder bag before heading down the stairwell. The Chinese photographer pauses; looking back up at the detective, his doe-like eyes penetrating into Seungcheol’s. “Detective, I heard a strange noise last night. It might not be anything significant but… I thought you should know.” The older blinks, nodding quietly as Minghao bids him good-bye. The only sound left is the sound of fading footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. 

* * *

An irritating noise echoes through the silent apartment as Jisoo stands in his underwear, trying to look for something semi-appropriate to wear. Whoever took over the body in his place has nothing appealing - their closet is filled with nothing but plush pastel cashmere sweaters and hipster skinny jeans, another section straight out of the stereotypical boy-next-door handbook. Jisoo grimaces, pulling out the darkest coloured t-shirt the person has (which, news flash; happened to be a darker version of a soft grey shirt) and a pair of fraying black jeans. 

The annoying noise silences itself, allowing him to finally hear himself think for a moment. He tugs on the shirt, and as he struggles to tug on his skinny jeans that fucking noise blares again, driving Jisoo insane. Hopping around the room (while looking completely ridiculous in the process), he finds the source of the noise. A small compacted device similar to an iPod touch, blaring with the name ‘Seokjin’ flashing across the massive screen. Jisoo pauses, unsure of how to answer the device, desperate to make it stop, there’s text stating ‘swipe to answer’ and he slides his finger across the screen - successfully answering the call. 

“What?” he asks into the phone, only to flinch and hold the phone away from his ear as the person - fucking Seokjin - voice blares through the tiny earpiece of the device. Jisoo has so many questions swirling around his methodical mind as the other talks. Firstly, who the fuck is dares distrupt him while he’s trying hard to put on pants? Secondly, what the hell is this nut job talking about? From all the times he slipped out while ‘working’ he has never encountered this man before. 

“Jaehwan is so pissed!” Seokjin says, panic lining his voice. “You better get your ass to work in twenty minutes or else Jaehwan is going to send out the entire city looking for you.” With that, he hangs up, giving Jisoo some goddamn peace and quiet. He ignores the message, resuming his battle with that pair of stupid pants. Somehow, he gets them on, thank fucking god. Scowling at the feeling of denim against his legs, he rushes out of the suffocating apartment, slipping himself into a thick leather coat and a pair of leather boots. 

The outside is nothing short of cold; winter showing it’s ugly self in the third week of October. Causing the city to feel like it has been dunked in liquid nitrogen; the wind nips at Jisoo’s cheeks as he casually strolls through the bustling city streets. The cold bites against his body, viciously trying to penetrate his stoic feature. His eyes harden, glowering at people as he pushes through, his long legs taking him down what’s supposed to be a familiar road before they stop in front of a pink and blue dollhouse-like building. The fresh aroma of coffee filters out as an auburn colour haired male (assumed to be Seokjin) rushes around inside, trying to accommodate the massive crowd of people. Jisoo stands outside with a ruthless smirk forming on his face. 

He watches the other running around like a chicken without his head, flustered before he lazily pushes the cafe door open; strolling over to the counter and places a disinterested hand on the barista’s shoulder. There’s a violent shiver rushing through the male, before he turns around. The employee suddenly throws himself at Jisoo’s middle, sobbing hysterically only to be shoved off by the younger. The raven-haired male slams onto the ground with a bone-crunching _thump_. 

“Don’t do that,” Jisoo says, stepping over the boy and heading towards the cash register. _How does this work again? I feel so rusty._ He stares down at the register, trying to understand the millions of buttons while the person (some asshole dressed in a ridiculous outfit; who wears a long peacoat in the middle of _winter_ ) complains in front of him. 

“I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes, can you _please_ hurry up?” the man asks, pulling out his cellphone to answer a call. 

“If you waited for ten minutes already, you can wait for another ten minutes,” Jisoo responds, quickly scanning over his environment. Coffee cups to his left, a pen near the register and a million empty cups lined up on the counter - nothing made in them. 

“Joshua,” the brunet whimpers, grabbing against Jisoo’s arm. “You’re supposed to be making drinks. Remember the last time I made them?” Jisoo can’t but it doesn’t matter, the brunet is already shoving the older male over to the espresso machine - a device Jisoo isn’t confident in using. His eyes narrow, staring at the machine, unmoving. He feels incredibly overwhelmed, like he’s back at the laboratory once again. 

“Can you hurry up!?” someone in the crowd shouts. “I’m going to be late for my meeting!” 

He can’t think like this. “It’s not like you need coffee for a meeting,” Jisoo deadpans, rolling his eyes before entering his mental library; looking for the very power he had stolen: freezing time. Watching the old man’s - a professor if Jisoo remembers correctly - baggy skin melts away as the poor bastard screamed in agony brings nothing but joy to Jisoo’s cold, dead heart. He pulls up the card and slips it into the mental slot; and with the snap of his fingers, time freezes. He looks around, staring at the angry faces of the caffeine-addicted crowd before he calmly reaches over for a cup and a recipe book from under the counter, just to refresh his memory. 

The fifteen-minute time limit wears off in a blink of an eye, and the chaotic noise of the cafe resumes like nothing happened; except for the fifteen cups of coffee and coffee-like drinks lined up on the other counter. The loud, obnoxious lady from earlier grabs her coffee, slamming a lid on it, mumbling something that sounds like “finally”; walking out as her heels click against the tiled floor. Jisoo lifts one of his legs, hopping around while falling into a coffee-making system. The glare he gives to people who dare look over at him strangely silences them from commenting. 

Twelve minutes into the much quieter and less chaotic shift, the lady from earlier rushes back in; slamming the glass door open. The quiet conversation that lingered in the cafe’s air instantly silences; all patrons whipping their heads towards the furious lady. The brunet, whom Jisoo finally learns is Seokjin, looks like he’s going to faint, his face turning an unsightly shade of white as she storms up to the counter. With the final cup on the pick-up counter, Jisoo hops over, already annoyed by her existence. 

“What?” he says, lowering his leg. “You got your coffee, leave.” 

“Joshua!” Seokjin cries out, but his protests are ignored. “You can’t say stuff like that here! What is _wrong_ with you?” 

“You,” she says, shoving a manicured nail into Jisoo’s chest. He barely blinks, eyes scanning over the woman’s white turtleneck sweater stained with what seems to be half her coffee cup. “I demand another coffee; on the house. There were some _holes_ along the rim of the cup!” He fights a knowing smile as Seokjin attempts to improve the growing tension lingering in the air. Jisoo continues to stare at her impassively, before reaching over and grabbing a freshly brewed pot of coffee. Without a moment’s hesitation, he dumps the scalding hot coffee on the woman. The room goes silent as if the air has been sucked out; everyone turns to stare at the two baristas and the woman; some pull out their phones, recording the entire thing while others look on, jaw dropped and bug-eyed at the situation. Seokjin on Jisoo’s right looks like a fish out of water. In the thirty seconds of silence, Jisoo could hear someone screaming at him in the back of his mind, his eyes close for a second before slamming the coffee pot down on the customer’s head, the glass shattering and embedding itself into her skull. Her body limply falls against the counter as the screaming from the other customers begins. 

“Joshua!” Seokjin screams, grabbing the younger by the shoulder and shaking him violently. “What the fuck are you doing!? You can’t just _assault_ someone like that!” 

“Shut it alpaca,” Jisoo snaps, closing his eyes momentarily; pulling up that professor’s second time power. A much riskier one to use but it’s better than having the cops called upon. When the playing card slides into the slot, Jisoo turns to look at the clock. The hands of the large clock begin to turn backwards, and every event that led up to that fateful encounter. 

The day runs smoothly afterwards. 

* * *

At ten in the morning Jeonghan’s lavish office door slams open as a very angry and disgruntled Junhui storms in, slamming a different coffee cup onto the blond’s oak table; startling Jeonghan out of his work. He looks up, seeing a massive snow storm brewing outside; as Junhui storms into his own office slamming the door violently. There’s a moment of silence before Jeonghan gets up and heads into the Chinese man’s office; knocking softly as the other curses in his mother tongue. 

“Junhui,” Jeonghan says, his voice softening; sliding into his siren like vocals. “What happened today? Are you okay?” 

“Leave me alone,” Junhui snaps, turning towards the window; watching the snow swirl around the building. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The elder stands at the doorway, watching the twenty-two-year-old’s shoulders shudder as his head hangs down, his stringy brown hair hanging limply around him. For the first time, since meeting this determined and eager young man four years ago, Jeonghan can see how defeated the other looks. The CEO stands in between a rock and a cliff; if he leaves it alone, what could happen? Would Junhui just sit like that all day? But if he doesn’t leave it alone, what could happen? Would the younger male storm out? 

Silently, Jeonghan walks over and wraps his arms around the shaking male, rubbing soothing circles on the younger’s back, not saying anything. For the next few minutes, all that fills the air is the sounds of ragged breathing, as if Junhui is struggling to compose himself. 

“Maybe, you should take the next few days off,” Jeonghan quietly says. “Just stay at home and don’t work. I’ll be fine on my own.” He gives Junhui a firm pat on the back; lifting the other up and walking him out of the building. 

“Are you sure?” Junhui asks, wiping his eyes and nose with a tissue pulled out of his pocket. “I’ll be oka—”

“Go home, take a bath, sleep!” Jeonghan says, his eyes flashing gold, stealing away Junhui’s independence for a moment. Junhui’s pupils widen, his shoulders slumping down as he mindlessly nods, stumbling through the snow-covered streets, heading three blocks north and four blocks east. Jeonghan closes his eyes, letting out a minor sigh as someone taps him on the shoulder. He whips around, seeing Minghao standing there, his camera around his neck. 

“The photos are—Oh gross! What the hell Jeonghan!?” Minghao jumps back, wiping furiously at his cheek. Jeonghan shrugs, wiping the back of his lips as he flashes a cheeky grin at the other Chinese male. The younger scowls, punching the older in the shoulder before storming away, heading towards the elevator. 

“What about the photos?” Jeonghan calls, running over and wrapping his arms around the skinny boy, pulling a fearful yelp from the latter. “What were you saying?” 

“I said the photos are done and Nana has been looking for you to go over the edits! Get off of me!” Minghao squirms, struggling to throw the elder off, to no avail. He simply tightens his hug, holding on for dear life as Minghao attempts to throw him off, like a bucking bull. The elevator door opens, and somehow the pair tumbles inside, with Minghao lying on top of Jeonghan. He digs his bony elbow into Jeonghan’s ribs, getting up and punching the button to the top floor. The moment they get out, Minghao is going to murder his boss. 

But the minute the elevator doors open, Jeonghan throws the younger male onto the floor and books it to his office. Minghao lies on the floor of the elevator; wondering what his life has become. Behind the safety of his office, Jeonghan walks over to Nana, her sharp eyes narrowing at the CEO as she shoves the manila folder into his chest, her eyes rolling as Jeonghan flashes her a winning smile. 

“Get them back to me as soon as possible,” Nana says, walking away. Jeonghan nods, terrified of his editor’s cold demeanor and towering stature. He scurries into his office, locking the door (and pushing a small office chair in front, just in case Minghao decides to break the door down). Before diving head first into work, he glances at the clock: eleven fifteen am; perhaps a bit too early to be messaging Joshua, but without his intern’s sharp eyes, no one can really stop him. He reaches over, grabbing his phone and shooting Joshua a quick message. 

**Me**

_Wanna go out for drinks sometime soon?_

_My treat_

Groaning, he stares at his laptop clock, running his fingers through his hair. Just an hour and a half to go before he can break for lunch. Mentally, he tells himself he can do this - reviewing pictures isn’t that bad. Realistically, he knows his mind will be swimming from the same shots taken over and over again with minor adjustments. Cracking the crick out of his neck, he lets out a sigh and opens the manila folder. 

Not even an hour into his artistic endeavors, someone crashes into his office door; scaring whatever work ethic Jeonghan has right out the window. He stands (never allowing himself to admit to _anyone_ that shrill, high pitched scream he had just let out moments earlier) before removing his barricade. In his hallway he sees a very distressed designer, clinging onto one of the photographers as the poor photographer (Jeonghan can’t for the life of him remember their name) tries to push the sobbing lady off. 

“Can someone explain to me why you deliberately ruined my working mode?” Jeonghan asks, rubbing his tired eyes. Why couldn’t it already be the weekend? Why do all Fridays suck so hard? Isn’t it supposed to be Mondays that suck?

“I just want to do my job!” the photographer cries out, shoving the designer onto the floor and booking it. Jeonghan can feel another headache come on - he has way too much to do to deal with _yet_ another meltdown.

“B-But! But! The barista at the Carat Cafe is totally possessed!” She (Jeonghan believes her name is Seola but he could be wrong) dries her eyes with the tissue given to her earlier. “He’s not himself! I swear he literally dumped an entire pot of fresh coffee on someone then somehow _changed it so that it didn’t happen!_ ” The CEO stares at the hysterical designer before another designer Xuan Yi does the logical thing (or maybe she was tired of listening to her colleague cry) and slap Seola, snapping her (somewhat) out of her insane ramblings. It doesn’t seem to work as the eldest of the pair continues to bawl harder and louder than before, giving everyone within a fifty mile radius a killer headache and temporary deafness. Jeonghan covers his ears, glowering at the pair of designers. 

“Seola” Jeonghan says, his voice latching onto that melodic, soothing tone - almost as if the scent of lavender is filtering through the air. Seola pauses her wailing, her eyes blown for just a moment. “I need you to lower your voice, people are trying to work and that can’t do that if you’re wailing like a banshee, do you understand me?” When the designer nods, Jeonghan mentally shuts it off, his voice no longer carrying that hypnotic potency. He brushes his bangs out of his eyes, silently cursing at his unnaturally long hair. There just hadn’t been any time to cut it and his regular hairdresser (bless her soul) is away on personal matters and won’t be back till the end of January. 

“Jeonghan…” Seola says, her voice small. “I… I still need to talk to you about something.” The blond merely points to his office, expecting the other to scurry in because he is an extremely busy man (busy playing mobile games while neglecting his actual duties that is), before locking himself back in. Seola looks around, eyes wide as she scans the lavish looking office. Jeonghan heads to his desk, waiting for her to stop her obvious gawking. Seola eventually sits down on the soft leather arm chair, shifting uncomfortably as Jeonghan’s eyes calmly gaze over her. Waiting for someone who’s normally eager to talk to talk turns out to be nothing but torture. In fact, in the short time that the two have known each other, Jeonghan doesn’t remember a time when Seola was ever quiet. 

“I… I think… Joshua, the cute barista at the Carat Cafe,” Seola finally says. “There’s something wrong and he’s not himself. I don’t know what to do.” 

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan asks, tilting his head a bit, strands of long blond hair falling into his face. 

“It’s the same person on the outside, but on the inside, it’s like there’s another human operating the controls.” 

* * *

Jisoo stares at his phone, a new message from someone named _Angel_ , such a strange name for contact. He takes ten minutes to figure out how to open the message and another ten more minutes to figure out what the hell to write back. The nagging desire to indulge in nothing but alcohol all night linger in the back of his mind and out of sheer desperation to fulfill his price, he agrees. Angel sends out a face with a bright smile and details to the bar - somewhere Jisoo hopes he could find within three hours. 

He jumps over the counter, flipping the sign and locks up. Working at a coffee shop is boring, he decides as he slips out the door noting the snow storm had subsided. _A possible user lingering in this city?_ Shoving his hands into his pockets, he casually strolls down the cobblestone road, his sharp eyes keeping a lookout for anyone suspicious. He clicks his tongue as he scans around the area - finally seeing someone stand before a dog, conversing with it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Sure, you can make the argument and say that everyone talks to their pets. But there’s something odd about the interaction - as if the dog is responding to whatever that kid is talking about. 

In a flash, he pulls up his trusty trump card, sliding it into the slot and ignoring the potential repercussions that may come afterwards. His eyes flash neon green, quietly scanning the streets as he follows the voice. Normal human auras; the usual light greys float aimlessly around Jisoo’s eyes, providing him with nothing useful. Maybe he heard incorrectly. Was it just his imagination? He’s about to shut off his aura seeking vision and head somewhere warm to pass out for a moment when a flash of blood catches his eye. In the courtyard of what seems to be a school stands a group of students. Off to the side, hidden underneath a tree is the one with the blood red aura and a couple more - four different coloured auras. 

But just as he’s about to head in to rip those powers out of them, the school doors open and that group (with two that look strangely familiar but Jisoo isn’t sure) hurry in, band equipment in tow. Jisoo closes his eyes, trying hard to push the pulsing headache that creeps from the corner of his mind - his body struggling to maintain consciousness. He holds onto the chain link fence, chuckling to himself as he peers through his bangs, eyeing those fancy suits. Pushing away from the fence, he stumbles towards a library close by, curling up in the non-fiction self-help section and closing his eyes as darkness envelopes him like a protective mother. 

Yet in his dreams he could remember the school bells ringing and children rushing towards the one story brick building. The sun was shining down yet the cool breeze kept the students from burning up like a fish. Jisoo stood under the shade, soaking in the breeze when he heard someone fall beside him, scraping his knee against the gravelly ground. The cries of a young child tugged at the heart of a person that had yet to become ice. He stared at the younger child, someone who reminded him of his neighbour - chubby cheeks and large doe like eyes that welled up in tears as her knee bleeds. A teacher rushed over, trying to comfort the girl but Jisoo knew what to do. He walked over and gave her a gentle smile, his hand hovering over her injured knee as he told her, “Everything will be okay.” 

A soft glow emitted from his hand as he washed away the pain, the agony and the suffering, healing the wound. A thousand tiny lights worked meticulously to stitch up the scrap, wiping it away like it never happened. For a moment, Jisoo looked up at the teacher, expecting some kind of praise as every young child did - but instead of awe and wonder, the few emotions he knew at the time, he saw nothing but fear and horror. The girl stared at him before shoving him into the dirt and running away, screaming, “Monster!” 

The night after that blended together, swirling around like paint - the world blurring together as men in black broke into his Los Angeles home, weapons out and demanding an eight-year-old child. He hasn’t seen his parents in over ten years, and to this day, Jisoo is unable to remember their faces. He sometimes wonders if they miss him, but then he remembers what he’s there to do and that mission does not involve silly human emotions such as sadness. No, being sad is a sign of weakness, Mourning is a sign of not being focused enough and the last thing Jisoo wants is to be seen as incompetent. That’s why he strives so hard to prove himself; that’s why without hesitation he brutally and coldly murdered the only thing keeping him from falling into insanity at that god awful facility: Empathy. _Why am I thinking about that now?_

But his question remains unanswered as that obnoxious device blares again. Angel is calling and the time is getting shorter and shorter by the second. Jisoo answers it, springing up from his (admittedly) comfortable position, heading back out into the cold. 

“What?” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Can I help you angel?” There’s a moment of silence on the other end, as if the one known as angel is speechless. For a moment, Jisoo wonders if the caller is a joke - in fact, he wonders if everything is a joke and if it is, he is going to unleash nothing but hell on whoever is on the other line. 

“Well,” the other person says, a light hearty chuckle escaping his lips; one that twists itself in Jisoo’s mind. It’s like sugary nectar drawing him in and for a moment his mind fills with nothing but flowers, their petals gently stroking against his cheeks like a nurturing mother. “I didn’t expect that response.” 

“What can I say?” Jisoo takes a step out into the open air, the cold wind slapping his face; turning his cheeks red and his fingers purple. “I’m full of surprises.” In the horizon, the sun begins to set, the sky turning into a deep shade of orange and red; it looks like the inside of a blood orange or the middle of an inferno. The barista holds up his hand, squinting against the harsh sunlight that shines so brightly even in the dead of winter. Swallowing, he heads to the bar Angel indicated and after getting lost twice (it isn’t Jisoo’s fault that this entire city is built like a fucking maze) he stumbles upon the Holiday Bar - a small classy establishment hidden in the heart of Main Street. The man on the other end continues to talk, his voice smooth like caramel as he washes away all the darkening thoughts that formed in Jisoo’s mind and for a moment he isn’t sure who’s in control of the body. 

“Angel,” Jisoo breathes, smelling in the sharp scent of summer strawberries. The man with the chin length blond hair, dressed in a dark grey army peacoat, turns around and the smell of summer grows in intensity. It’s like he drowned himself in that scent, as if determined not to allow the early winter to overstay its welcome. The man flashes him a bright smile, white teeth glistening under the dim lighting as his hand reaches out and grabs onto Jisoo’s cold one. 

“You made it,” he says, holding onto the younger’s hand tightly. “For some reason, I thought you weren’t going to.”

“And why is that?” Jisoo looks into the bar, a quiet little thing with a few couples milling around. He supposes that it _is_ a Friday night but what else are you going to do besides get wasted? _Whatever_ , Jisoo tells himself, dragging Angel behind him. _Let’s get fucking wasted! Life is far too short to not._

“Well you said you weren’t a drinker.” .

Jisoo smirks, staring back at Angel. “Like I said, I’m full of surprises.”

* * *

There’s a frightening buzzing sound situated above Joshua, it’s like he’s in a hospital room again. The lights must not be working; he tries to move his arm to hit the call button - ask the nurses to turn the dying lights off. But his arms refuse to move - like they’re glued to the bed, the wrist cuffs tight against his arms. He tries to open his eyes but like his arms, they refuse to open. _Why?_ Panic begins too set in, an intense worry that Joshua is actually dead or dying. But he doesn’t want to die; not when he has so much to live for. 

Then, there’s the sound of a door opening on the right of him. A pair of voices converse quietly next to him as a cold hand touches his arm. It takes everything in him not to jolt in shock. The cold hands move their way up, forcing his closed eyelids open, shining a bright light in both his eyes - watching to see if Joshua’s pupils dilate or not. Joshua makes no indication that he’s conscious or functioning - it’s absolutely terrifying; violating as the person snakes their clammy hands under his shirt, rubbing itself over his stomach. His vocals catch themselves in his throat, refusing to continue onwards, suffocating him. 

“When will he be ready?” someone asks, sitting the barista up. Joshua could feel his head hang limply in front of him, his hair falling over his sleeping face. Something sticky and hard attaches itself to his temple as the voices continue to murmur to one another. More of those sticky hard things attach themselves to his head until they feel satisfied with their work. Then he hears something lower as the same clammy hands lift Joshua’s head, leaning it back against the chair. Tight straps attach themselves to his forehead and chin, keeping him in place. 

The door slams closed and Joshua desperately wishes to say something, ask something, wake up from his state of unconsciousness. None of that comes, not until he feels pain rushing through his body. His head feels like it’s splitting open from the sheer force of plasmic blue electricity rushing over his body. His eyes finally snap open and the sounds that have been trapped in the depths of his throat explode out into a blood-curdling scream. 

His body thrashes about in his restraints, desperately trying to escape, but the metal cuffs do nothing but dig their way into his delicate skin. He could feel the metal burn through his muscles, crashing itself into his bones. Another pained scream rips from his throat as another rush of electricity scars his mind. Minutes after the torture, the machine shuts off; causing Joshua’s body to slump against the cold, harsh chair limply. His eyes dart around the room, noting the bubbling tubes of chemicals lingering in the room. The disgusting artificial smell that he didn’t notice before penetrates his senses, overwhelming him like a perfume shop. 

Joshua’s eyes then focus themselves on the men behind the glass - their silhouettes swirl like shadows; the details blurring in Joshua’s eyes. His mind feels like it’s been placed in a toaster oven and cooked on the highest setting possible - overcooked and burning. A soft glow emits from his body, something warm and soothing like honey washing over him, comforting him and soothing his sobbing body. But that soft glow disappears seconds after it appears, that agonizing psychological alternation snapping down again, eliminating that comfort. He screams again, shutting his eyes and praying that this torturous pain is nothing more than a frightening nightmare. 

* * *

Jihoon nervously fiddles with his tie as he loosens then tightens it again before discarding it altogether. Why is he so nervous about eating dinner with Seungcheol? They do it every week without fail, and yet, here is Jihoon, a ball of nerves and playing with his sleeve cuffs. It might be due to the fact that he’s being over dramatic about everything - the implication Siwon made the last time as well as the uncomfortableness that lingered after. Or maybe it’s because Jihoon feels like his anxiety is getting worse and doesn’t want to admit it. Seungcheol might bring it up, and Jihoon would be forced to lie about the state of his mental condition. Or maybe Seungcheol won’t, and Jihoon will be left feeling like his issues don’t matter. His medication and mental health is a complicated thing, so messy and tangled that no one wants to deal with. 

Hell, even Jihoon doesn’t even _want_ to be scratching on that surface - unwilling to also divulge more than his current state of mind to his friends. When he deems himself somewhat presentable, he puts on the final touch; his engagement ring. The smooth silver looks brighter against his pale skin. It’s a sleek and rather inconspicuous design that shouldn’t raise eyebrows if he chooses to wear it out (unless you’re Wonshik Kim, who, for some reason, has excellent gaydar). 

Swallowing, he pulls on a windbreaker and steps out into Junhui’s living room where JiWoo and Soonyoung are there, trying to set up the SSP to the Junhui’s flat-screen 4K television. He lifts his left hand and gives the pair a wave, unknowingly flashing his engagement ring underneath the light. 

“See you all,” he says. “I’ll be back later.” 

“Later, old man,” JiWoo teasingly calls over in a soft voice to him, giggling when the pink-haired man looks at her, unamused. He simply walks out the door without another word before he gets stalled and ends up late. 

“Where is he going, anyway?” JiWoo asks while plugging in some chords and troubleshooting why the damn thing won’t show up on the TV. Hoshi Yoshi rolls around in his little hamster ball without a care in the world. He yells with excitement whenever he runs over the wires like a speed bump, nearly going airborne. JiWoo quietly scolds Hoshi Yoshi not to hurt himself.

“Dinner with Seungcheol,” Soonyoung simply says with a shrug of his shoulders before noticing the lonely look on her face. It makes him think about how she saw Jihoon’s engagement ring just now before leaving. _Does she know?_ It doesn’t take him long to debate whether he should bring it up or not because the words simply spill out from his mouth. “JiWoo, do you like Jihoon?”

“What?” She turns to face him, a look of utter confusion on her face. “What do you mean if I like Jihoon?” Her voice cracks, causing her to sound upset and defensive. Soonyoung doesn’t get a chance to speak when his phone starts ringing. He tugs it out of his pant pocket and smiles when he sees his lover’s face on display. He excuses himself and steps out of the apartment and into the hallway to take the call, leaving JiWoo alone to finish troubleshooting the SSP while Hoshi Yoshi begs to be let free from the hamster ball so he can roam wild.

“Just don’t get stuck in the couch again,” JiWoo says while releasing the little rodent from the pink plastic ball. “Stay where I can see you, okay?”

“ **_Yes, ma’am!_ ** ” Hoshi Yoshi says with glee. “ **_A new adventure awaits me in this unknown foreign land. What might I find this time? Into the unkowwwwwn~!_ **” 

“Just don’t eat anything you find on the floor, it’s bad for you.” JiWoo continues to nag while fighting the tangled wires. 

It’s been a while since she’s messed around with electronics, or at least it feels like it. This is the first time in a short while that she’s hung out with one of her roommates, after giving them quite the scare that night over a week ago. Fortunately, they’ve been patient with her since then, letting her go at her pace with things. As worried as they were, they never pushed her into talking and didn’t ask a lot of questions knowing it’d make her uncomfortable. Even if they were busy with their own things like work and school, they still found time to check up on her, whether that be through text or paying a two minute visit at her bedroom doorway. Eventually, things start going back to normal, or as normal as normal can be. Yesterday, Junhui’s new TV arrived which means it’s time to reconnect all the gaming consoles since Soonyoung wanted to challenge JiWoo to some games, which brings us to JiWoo letting out a frustrated sigh when somehow one of the wires knotted itself.

“By the way, what was Soonyoung going on about before he left?” she asks while dropping the wires, deciding to take a break before she goes insane.

“ **_About Hoonie?_ ** ” Hoshi Yoshi asks. JiWoo hums in reply. “ **_He thinks you’re in a messy love triangle between Hoonie and Cheollie_ **.” 

“What?” JiWoo nearly chokes on her saliva. “No way!” She coughs from straining her voice so suddenly. She carefully sips on her water to soothe her throat.

“ **_That’s what he thinks!_ ** ” Hoshi Yoshi crawls towards her, sniffing the wires. “ **_Isn’t it true?_ **”

“Of course, it’s not true!” She must’ve been misunderstood again, first her brother and now Soonyoung. They both thought she had romantic feelings for Jihoon. _And here I was just wondering why Seungcheol never has dinner here for a change? Everyone is always leaving instead of staying..._

“ **_Then, you should let him know when he gets back._ **” The hamster is about to take a nibble at the wire, but JiWoo stops him with a loud ‘stop!’. He freezes in place before she tells him to back away. He does as he’s told and sits there, peering up at her like he’s waiting for her next command. 

“Jesus, it’s like looking after a toddler! If you’re hungry, just say so.” She gets up from her spot on the floor and tells him to stay put while she leaves to fetch him his bowl of food from his cage. When she returns, she notices he hasn’t moved an inch from his spot. Hoshi Yoshi has always been obedient when she tells him nicely to listen to her, but he’s never been this compliant. It’s like he’s put under a spell of some sort. _Weird._ She places the bowl in front of him and tells him to eat. So he does. 

Lately, she’s noticed a change when it comes to her ability, one she’s afraid of. For as long as she can remember, JiWoo’s only been able to communicate with animals, chalking up their obedience to her way with words, and convincing them to listen to her. Now she wonders if she’s been controlling them all along, and it doesn’t help when she thinks about the incident back at Mingyu’s shared apartment when she couldn’t stop those crows from killing that little boy. _Was it my fault in the end?_ The silence in the room is almost suffocating, and she can feel her mind start to take a turn for the dark side until the front door opening snaps them out of it. That’s when she can hear Hoshi Yoshi’s usual “nom nom nom” sounds when eating. 

“Look who finally came to visit! My partner, Seokmin!” Soonyoung beams obnoxiously in his English voice as he enters with his frumpy looking boyfriend trailing behind like a mindless zombie. He looks like he hasn’t slept in ages, his hair sporting the ‘I-just-got-out-of-bed’ look or the ‘I-woke-up-like-this’ look. The bags under his eyes are dark and concerning, but JiWoo tries not to stare for too long, she knows what that feels like all too well. “Minnie, this is JiWoo, Wonwoo’s younger sister. JiWoo, this is Seokmin. I told you he exists!”

“I believed you!” JiWoo mutters in Korean before making an effort to switch to English. There has to be a reason why he changed when introducing his boyfriend. “It’s nice to meet you,” she adds and holds her hand out to shake with the disheveled man. Seokmin simply stares at her offered hand and grabs it before she can pull it away. He gives it a quick shake, and lets go, apologizing for his unsightly appearance. She holds her hand when he passes, silencing herself from making a painful noise. He gripped her hand a tad too tight, causing her boney joints in her fingers to get squashed together, leaving a temporary sharp pain that dulls and lingers for a moment or two.

“I’m not having a good day,” he mutters while dragging himself over to take a seat on the couch. 

“I’m sorry—” JiWoo is cut off when she hears the high pitch squealing from Hoshi Yoshi on the floor. She covers her left ear and flinches, looking down to see the hamster scurrying towards Seokmin, climbing up the couch like he’s climbing Mount Everest. He nearly slips a few times, but he doesn’t give up until he makes it to the top and climbs up onto Seokmin’s thigh. It’s incredible to see how fast the little furball climbs up Seokmin’s chest only to cuddle and nuzzle into his neck, peppering him with whisker kisses. 

“Are you okay?” Soonyoung asks, resting a hand on JiWoo’s shoulder. A look of concern on his face when he notices her painful expression. 

“I’m fine, just… some ringing in my ear, that’s all. I had no idea how much Hoshi Yoshi liked your boyfriend.” She keeps her voice down while Seokmin chuckles from how ticklish the hamster’s love is. It’s nice to see Seokmin’s bright smile when he scoops the hamster up from his shoulder to greet him properly. It’s like looking at the literal embodiment of the sun (the only sun she can tolerate).

“He does?” Soonyoung breaks out into a wide smile. “I’m so glad!” He does worry, at times, about what his pet hamster thinks about his boyfriend, but it’s reassuring to know he loves him just as much as Soonyoung does. With love on his mind, he remembers the conversation he was having with JiWoo shortly before Seokmin called. There was something the younger wanted to tell him, but he wanted to say to him in person. But with JiWoo in the room, it might have to wait. 

It seems like both JiWoo and Seokmin are getting along when they finally figure out why the SSP wasn’t connecting to the TV. The HDMI cable wasn’t even plugged in. JiWoo claims that was Soonyoung’s job, to which he apologizes with a sheepish chuckle (he’s never been the greatest with technology). Despite Soonyoung thought to wait on continuing his talk with JiWoo until Seokmin leaves, it’s like his mouth didn’t get the memo, and he brings it up to JiWoo while she’s playing against Seokmin in _Bag O’ Luck_. She ends up losing and glares at him. 

“You know, do you like, _like_ him?” He’s only met with her stare. “I couldn’t help but notice you seemed… bothered after seeing Jihoon’s engagement ring? You didn’t know?” 

“I knew,” she answers, setting the controller down. Seokmin proceeds to start a solo match while letting the two talk. Hoshi Yoshi perched directly behind the controller in his lap, like he’s playing the game himself. “I knew for a while now.” Suddenly he can’t read the emotion on her face. _Why are the Jeon siblings so hard to read!?_ “I’m not bothered by it.” The silence from the dancer only tells her there’s been another misunderstanding. “To answer your question, no, I don’t like Jihoon, not in that way, at least. We’ve known each other for a long time. He’s like an older brother to me, and I admire him a lot. He’s so talented, and I love his music. I’m not in love with him or anything.” 

“Oh, okay, my bad!” Soonyoung blurts out with an awkward laugh. “Sorry about that, I just… the way you look at him sometimes, I was under the impression that you had feelings for him.” 

“Really?” she asks, frowning. “I don’t have feelings for him, or for anyone else… so I thought I didn’t, anyway.” He watches her avoid eye contact and begins to fiddle with her hands, creating sweater paws and folding her arms across her chest, like her mind was suddenly flooded with thoughts of someone special. “Actually, relationships make me uncomfortable, so I’m sure I don’t have those kinds of feelings, okay?”

“They make you uncomfortable?” Soonyoung’s never known this about the girl, after living with her for the past five years. It makes him wonder what else he doesn’t know about his roommates, but he reminds himself that he’s a busy guy, he really hasn’t had the time to catch up with everyone. Naturally, he wouldn’t know these kinds of things if they’re not even talking daily. Today he thinks he should make that effort now. “You don’t see yourself falling in love with someone later and getting into a relationship?” She simply shakes her head, but the look of uncertainty shows. “That’s okay, and some people don’t need to be in relationships sometimes.” 

“But…” She stops herself from saying any more, spiking Soonyoung’s curiosity. 

“Is it that you just don’t understand?” It’s like he flipped a switch on by the way she nods and crawls over to sit beside him, willing and ready to open up about it. He smiles, thinking it’s adorable. She’s like that younger sister he never got to have who occasionally comes to him when something’s troubling her. “I didn’t understand it myself at first, but over time it just sorta… made sense, you know? I think it’s hard to explain sometimes, but you’ll know when it happens, I’m sure of it. There’s nothing to be scared about. Relationships are like friendships, just more romantic.” He grins when he sees her scowl when he mentions the word romantic. “You’re just like Jihoon, such a tsundere.” 

“Really? I mean… whenever I think about this one guy, I kind of wanna break something. I don’t know if it’s because he makes me angry or happy? Or both?” 

“Don’t worry, and I know that feeling,” Seokmin blurts out, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Sometimes I just wanna punch him in the face…” He completes the match with a winning blow, uttering out a victorious “yes” that almost turns into a hiss as he turns to face the other two. 

“Babe, don’t say it like that,” Soonyoung says with a whine.

“Love is hard to describe,” Seokmin continues, ignoring Soonyoung’s undying love for him. “It’s hard to understand, but… all I know is that it’s a life-changing experience.” At that moment, JiWoo thinks she sees it, that loving look shared between lovers. They look at each other, so sincerely it almost makes JiWoo blush thinking about the way Kai has looked at her just like this.

“ **_Awww, they’re gonna kiss!_ **” Hoshi Yoshi blurts out (but all the couple hear is enthusiastic squeaking), causing JiWoo to scowl.

“No, they’re not, I’m sitting right here!” JiWoo responds, eyes locked on the hamster, forgetting for a moment that she’s in the presence of someone who doesn’t know she’s a contractor. 

“Uh!” Soonyoung sits up, frantically trying to think up an explanation. Maybe his boyfriend didn’t notice? Or perhaps it’s not suspicious at all the way she responded? No. It’s definitely suspicious the way she responded like someone said something they couldn’t hear. Seokmin simply laughs and shakes his hand. 

“Don’t worry, and I had a feeling she was a contractor. I saw her eyes glow.” He watches the girl tense up. She’s never been caught in the act before. “It’s okay. I’m a contractor too.” The tension in the air vanishes, and she lets out a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” 

“And so is yours,” she says with a warm smile. Once again, Seokmin suddenly feels that familiar feeling he had upon meeting Mingyu’s younger sister. That feeling of being understood and not needing to explain himself. Maybe it’s because they both have a dark secret they’re hiding, how can someone who doesn’t know what it’s like understand him in the end? “Hoshi Yoshi wants you to know that he really loves you.” She holds the little hamster up to Seokmin’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts. The small animal has his arms out, his little hands making a grabbing motion in the air, his squeaks filling the large room.

“Really?” Seokmin asks while holding his hand out, creating a bridge for Hoshi Yoshi to cross. “I’m glad to hear it. I really love him too.” More enthusiastic squeaking ensues, giving the humans a good laugh. Once he’s in his hands, he brings him close and gently strokes his fur. “So, I got approved for an emotional support animal,” he says, looking up to see Soonyoung’s surprised expression. “I’m a little nervous. I’ve never taken care of an animal on my own before.”

“You’ll do fine!” JiWoo grins. “If Hoshi Yoshi likes you enough to nearly make me deaf in one ear, then I’m sure whoever is selected to be your emotional support animal will love you just as much! You have that aura about you, one that’s kind of inviting?” She looks to Soonyoung for confirmation. 

“I agree.” He can see Seokmin look at them like they’ve gone nuts. “Really! Maybe you can’t see it, but we can. It’s just… nice to be around you. You have a sharp but kind face. It’s like literal sunshine whenever you smile.” 

“Shut up.” Seokmin looks away - cheeks incredibly red - still giving gentle strokes to Hoshi Yoshi while doing so. He can hear JiWoo giggle and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“Feel free to bring your support animal over in the future, I don’t mind translating for you if you’re still nervous about it.” It gives him a piece of mind to know that someone is willing to help him find the perfect support animal, even if they’re all trained to help individuals like him, it’d be nice to know what his pet truly thinks about him. If he could have a bond like Soonyoung does with his hamster, maybe life won’t be so difficult anymore? That’s what he’s hoping for at least.

* * *

The warmth of the quiet bar is a welcomed friend as it greets the pair with open arms, wrapping them up in a much-needed hug. Jisoo never realized how warm the other man’s hand is till they detach themselves from his. Angel walks ahead, taking a spot near the fireplace, an indication that he knows the place well. _Maybe if he’s drunk enough…_ Jisoo follows, taking a cautious seat in the booth, his eyes scanning the drink list. That nagging desire for alcohol returns with a vengeance and his greedy body screams in need; curse that drunkard professor. He licks his lips, eyeing the different drink choices. What he wants is something that will satisfy that nagging need in festering in the back of his mind and for some reason his brain is screaming at him to take on a Moscow Mule. He hopes his body isn’t a lightweight or else that’d be embarrassing. 

A waiter walks by just as a jazz band begins to play, the singer (someone Jisoo can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl) begins softly before belting out their range. As the band slowly dives into a jazz rendition of a popular song Jisoo doesn’t know the waiter brings his attention back. 

“What would you like sir?” 

“Moscow Mule.” Angel and the waiter both raise an eyebrow - one not expecting the barista to be such a heavyweight and the other not expecting something like that to come out so early in the night. Without another word, the waiter nods walking over to the bar as the bartender slides a pink drink in a martini glass over. Neither one says a word as the waiter places it next to Angel. 

“I didn’t expect you to be such a heavy drinker,” Jisoo says, crossing his arms and leaning back. “You don’t look like one.”

“Oh?” Angel replies, a dark eyebrow quirking up in interest. “What do I look like then?” 

Their waiter interrupts them, placing a silver mug down on the table. Without another word, he turns, heading straight towards the bartender. Jisoo reaches over and takes a massive swing; feeling the alcohol burn as it goes down - his throat feeling like it’s been soaking in lighter fluid and salt. He coughs a bit, slamming the half full mug down and wiping his lips with the back of his hand. The burn felt good, amazing even. For once he knows what being alive truly means; that is until he looks back up at Angel and seeing the other man blur a bit. His vision almost goes as his mind sways and melts into mush. So, this body is a fucking lightweight. 

He clumsily places his chin on his hand (his elbow embarrassingly misses the table three times but he chalks it up to Angel’s looks, not his tipsy nature), and tilts his head as his brain turns into a liquid soup. “You look like someone I’d like to get to know more,” Jisoo says, a sly grin spreading across his face as the older chokes dramatically on his cocktail. Maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through his veins or maybe it’s the lust that clouds his mind, but Jisoo leans closer, his fingers brushing against Angel’s ever so softly. A softness the younger isn’t used to but likes, only for a short while. The animalistic urge surges through his body as he feels another playing card slip through the cracks of his fingers and slides into his folder. 

“You already know so much about me,” Angel replies. “What more do you need?” The other’s eyes harden, a sensual smile dancing across his face. Both know what the other wants, so why are they waiting? The answer hangs in the air between them, the sexual tension getting far too heavy for Jisoo’s liking. 

Jisoo downs the rest of his drink, feeling his body lose all control as he struggles to stand. He holds onto the older male as he pays the tab, his head resting limply on the other’s shoulder. But the tight grip that’ll leave bruises on the blond’s beautiful skin reminds them both who’s in control. Jisoo looks up, seeing Angel through rose coloured glasses and whispers huskily, “My place or yours?” 

When they enter Jisoo’s dreadfully boring apartment, Angel presses him against a wall as if attempting to assert dominance. The walk over has sobered Jisoo up enough to know how this night will end - him staring directly into Angel’s pretty brown eyes. It’s a challenge to the barista and he loves challenges - especially ones that have the potential of him losing. As much as Jisoo hates to lose in anything, he can’t help but feel submission coursing through his veins. The other is fighting his way through to take back control. _Just let me have this one, for once._

“I never pegged you to be the eager type,” Angel whispers sultrily into Jisoo’s ear, a pleasurable shiver radiating through his body. “Are you sure you want to continue?” Like a lightning bolt slamming into the ground - Joshua nods, mind hazy from lust. He grabs onto Jeonghan’s hand and tugs the older man closer, feeling his chest press against his own. Joshua feels like he’s in a state between Heaven and Hell as the devil tempts him. 

_But you want it so much._

“What can I say?” Joshua replies, his own throat feeling parched as he looks through hooded eyes. “I’m full of surprises.” 

Jeonghan merely grins, leaning forward and capturing Joshua’s lips. “Indeed you are.” The path to the bedroom is nothing but destruction - a hurricane of discarded clothing littering the floor. There’s a feeling of desperation in Joshua’s clumsy movement, the devil inside of him coming out every so often to take the lead. Falling backwards onto the bed with Jeonghan hovering over top, pecking at the sensitive skin on Joshua’s body, the younger lets out small, erotic gasps that have all logic escaping his grasp. 

“Make me yours,” he gasps out, curling his body instinctively. 

Jeonghan chuckles, leaning close to the shell of Joshua’s ear. “Baby, all you had to do was ask.” 

* * *

The air smells like gasoline, burning metal and blood, dripping from every orifice on Earth. It’s like the world is bleeding. Seungcheol stands among the wreckage as if watching it from the sidelines. He’s watching a movie flashing before him - his world, his city that he vowed to protect, is now crumbling at the seams. What used to be the beautiful AL-1 city is now standing in ruins. Many innocents murdered senselessly all because of… Because of what though? Seungcheol doesn’t know. He’s not sure what caused all of this destruction. 

His boots crunch on the turned-up concrete as he wanders through the ruins looking for survivors. The edges of his world are blurry - glassy almost, as if he’s looking through a fishbowl instead of through clear glass. His hand reaches out, casually lifting any debris out of his way in order to find survivors, if there is any. Behind him, sirens wail as firefighters and EMS help in the search for anyone alive. 

Seungcheol’s heart stops when he sees a hand peeking out from underneath the rubble - a hand with a glittery diamond ring on the ring finger. Suddenly all of the blood drains out of his body as he frantically rushes towards that hand. It can’t be Jihoon, please tell him it isn’t Jihoon’s body underneath that pile of twisted metal and broken asphalt. Not the person he loves more than life itself. But when he reaches the body, the entire thing fades away, melting into the gravel. It’s as if nothing was there at all. 

The detective looks around, seeing someone he thought he knew standing off in the distance. The figure is hunched over, smoke fluttering around him as he hears the creature scream in agony - as if it is in immense emotional pain. Seungcheol can feel his own heart breaking as he walks towards them, hand outwards. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Nothing but the silent air. After all, he is in one of his visions - changing the course of what he sees is impossible. 

_This is going to happen._

“I didn’t mean to,” the person whimpers out, their wails coming louder and louder. “I didn’t want this. This is not the future I envisioned!” Something explodes in the background as demonic creatures that are seen in the pits of Hell itself rise up, screaming as they make a break for the city. The person screams “Stop!” but to no avail, the demons are loose, attacking anyone they see moving. Seungcheol watches in horror as people are torn apart like ragdolls in front of him - blood gushing out like a fountain. There’s nothing stopping these creatures. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t… I’m so sorry.” 

In slow motion, time slowing down around them, Seungcheol turns just to hear the distinct sound of a gunshot right next to his ear. His eardrum rings from the sudden noise, causing him to stagger away from the noise, a hand protectively going up to slow the damage. Once the ringing ends, Seungcheol stands, looking at the fallen body. His mouth opening in horror as he peers at the face of the poor soul who just took their own life. It’s none other than—

He jerks awake in his bed, frantically looking around his room - turning on his lamp to see his bedroom as the way it is. Seungcheol can only sigh a breath of utter relief as he falls back down on the bed, staring up at the soft yellow glow plastered over the ceiling. Shadows dancing over the eggshell white, looking like hazy ribbons in a ceremony. He tells himself that it’s all just a dream and nothing about it is real. But a part of him actually wonders if it’s all a dream. It seems too real to be just a dream. 

He prays though, that it isn’t a vision because with his visions, they’re coming true one way or another. Someone is going to unleash hell upon the world and he’ll be powerless to stop it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need more tsundere Seokmins in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> We publish every Tuesday!  
> Comments are appreciated! We love them!  
> If you want, follow us on Twitter for updates I guess  
> (like i ever use it)  
> [iheartkpopXD](https://twitter.com/iheartkpopXD)  
> [Lithium012](https://twitter.com/Lithium012)


End file.
